April Showers
by EvergreenDreamweaver
Summary: All Joe wanted to do was go camping to celebrate his 18th birthday...but things didn't quite work out as planned...!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

 **APRIL SHOWERS**

By EvergreenDreamweaver & Sparks JSH

Chapter 1

"You don't think it's going to rain, do you?"

The speaker, a tall young man with thick, wavy blonde hair, stood next to a pitched tent in a clearing, scanning the cloudy skies with anxious blue eyes. He set down the armload of branches he was carrying, tossed a few onto the crackling blaze of the campfire, and turned toward his companion, who was seated on a folded tarp next to the tent.

"No, Joe, I don't think it's going to rain," Frank Hardy answered his brother patiently. "I think it's going to be cloudy, but I doubt that we'll get any rain. Stop worrying, can't you?" As he spoke, Frank rose to his full six-foot-one height and extended his arms lazily to a full stretch. "You never used to get so bent out of shape by the prospect of rain."

"But this may be our last camping trip for – for who knows how long!" Joe sounded wistful. "I don't want it to be spoiled by anything. I really wanted the whole gang to come, but we had enough trouble just getting the two of us away for it. Remember back when everyone would manage to go, at the drop of a hat?"

"You make it sound like it was decades ago!" Frank chuckled, his brown eyes twinkling. "You're not quite that old yet."

Now Joe grinned more cheerfully. "Nope, but I'm getting there! Only ten more days!"

"You don't have to remind me," Frank commented. "The whole reason for us being out here in the woods now is because you wanted to go camping right before your 18th birthday!" He shoved back the baseball cap he wore over his dark hair. "I didn't make strange requests like that when I turned 18…or 19." he added thoughtfully.

"Your birthday is in November," Joe scoffed. "Who wants to go camping in November?"

Frank shivered and buttoned his heavy wool jacket, then added another branch to the little fire. "Probably the same people who want to go camping in late March."

Frank and Joe Hardy were residents of Bayport, a city of some 50,000 people located on the Atlantic Coast, an hour's drive from New York City. The sons of Fenton Hardy, an internationally-renowned private investigator, and his wife Laura, the boys were amateur detectives in their own right. For several years now they – 19-year-old Frank, a freshman at Bayport Community College; and Joe, a senior at Bayport High School – had been solving various sorts of cases and crimes, both locally and on a wider scale. The two had every intention of following in their famous father's footsteps, and making investigation or some related field their chosen careers. But for the moment, they were simply two brothers enjoying the North Woods in the spring.

Now Joe unfolded another tarp, and sat down himself, folding his six-foot frame compactly. "Want to go for a hike after we eat lunch?" he inquired, as Frank disappeared into the tent, emerging a few moments later carrying packets of somewhat squashed-looking sandwiches.

"Joe, we've gone for a hike after lunch every day for the past three days. Couldn't we vary the pattern a little today?" Frank handed Joe his share of the sandwiches, then retreated into the tent again to bring out a couple of apples and a zip-closed bag of cookies. He settled onto his tarp and began eating. "These sandwiches are definitely past their prime," he mumbled, eyeing the peanut-butter-and-jam item suspiciously.

"Vary it how?" Joe bit into his apple.

"Well – I don't know – play cards, or something, and then take a hike? Nap – and not take a hike?" Frank grinned teasingly.

Joe shook his head. "You're showing your age, big brother. Once you hit nineteen, you started going downhill, and it's accelerating all the time."

"It'll happen to you, too," Frank informed him. "You'll be eighteen in ten days—"

"Ohhhh, yeah!" Joe exulted. "Finally considered an adult! I'm tired of you always getting to do things that I can't because I'm under eighteen."

"Such as?"

"Well…" Joe considered it a moment, chewing a bite of sandwich. "Voting…?" He frowned. "And I could buy cigarettes…." he added doubtfully.

"Joe, you know you don't smoke."

"I know – but I could if I wanted to! And there's all those contests that say 'must be 18 years or older to enter'"

A smile spread across Frank's lean features. "You can also be called for jury duty, little brother. And don't forget that nice card you got in the mail a week or so ago – the one reminding you to register with the Selective Service…hey!" He ducked, as Joe tossed a pine cone at him. "See, being 18 isn't all fun and games!"

Now Joe looked morose. "Maybe we should have stayed in Bayport for spring vacation after all," he said glumly, his mouth full of sandwich. Frank was immediately sorry he'd teased him; he didn't want Joe to be unhappy.

"No way…not with the girls and Mom gone, and all the other guys gone or busy, and Dad out of town." Frank ticked off their reasons for vacating Bayport on the fingers of one hand. "Vanessa and Megan decide that shopping in New York is the way to spend spring vacation, and manage to convince their mothers and our mom to go too!…Tony's working his tail off all vacation at Mr. Pizza…Chet went to Texas with Devon, to visit her grandparents…Phil stayed in New York, to attend that computer seminar—"

"And to be with his new girlfriend," Joe interposed.

"—that too…Biff's working all day, every day…." Frank sighed. "Dad's gone to Washington D.C….I'd rather be out here having to cook than home rattling around the house and still having to cook!"

"And no cases for weeks…." Joe was scowling now. "Man, I'm getting bored!" He threw another pine cone into the trees, then reached for the sack of cookies to console himself.

"Something will turn up," Frank said optimistically. "It always does."

When the boys had finished eating, they prepared to take a walk, carefully smothering the little campfire and loading their backpacks with water bottles, lightweight snacks, a small flashlight, and various other things they thought they might need.

"Ready?" Frank glanced around the campsite to make sure everything was tidy.

"Yup." Joe emerged from the tent and fastened the flaps closed. "Let's head – that way today." He shut his eyes, turned around once or twice, and pointed randomly into the trees, and they set off in the specified direction. There were numerous animal trails to follow, so long as one wasn't choosy about where one went.

They had only hiked about five minutes, however, when Frank paused mid-stride and held up a hand to halt his brother's progress. "Listen!"

"What?" Joe cocked his head and frowned.

"Sounds like a plane engine!"

Joe turned slowly, searching the sky. "I hear it now too. There! My gosh, that thing's awfully low!"

Both teens looked up at the sound of a small plane flying overhead. Frank smiled wistfully. He had his pilot's license, but it had been far too long since he'd had a chance to take a plane up. The smile abruptly changed to a look of alarm as the sound of an explosion came to their ears.

"Something's wrong with that plane!" he cried.

The two boys watched as a blue-and-white twin-engine Cessna floated over their heads. The motors were misfiring and hiccupping badly. Frank shrugged out of his backpack and pulled a tiny pair of binoculars from one of the pockets, attempting to focus on the plane as it made a sudden dip. It was obvious the pilot was having difficulty holding the plane level.

"Do you think he can get it down?" Joe demanded.

"There's a small lake over there somewhere, I think," Frank replied without taking his eyes from the struggling aircraft. "Crashing into the water would be safer than hitting the trees. If he can get it between the trees." His tone was grim. _Not that much chance of success…._ He blinked and took the binoculars away from his eyes.

"Joe, do you know whose plane that is?" he cried.

Joe shook his head. "Should I?"

"It's—" Before Frank could continue, the noise of the plane's engine cut off abruptly. As the boys watched in horror, they saw it dip again. As a pilot, Frank had a fair idea of what was going on in that cockpit right now; the amount of strength required to keep the plane's nose up would be Herculean.

A tall oak looming higher than the surrounding trees was directly in the little plane's path. Although the pilot managed to avoid crashing headlong into the massive trunk, the topmost branches scraped the belly of the plane, then caught one wing. Frank cringed as he saw it torn from the plane, much like a stepped-on child's toy.

The plane rolled sideways and tilted downward, and then came a dreadful sound that echoed through the quiet forest: a crackling, snapping noise, as branches were ripped from trees – followed by an enormous CRUNCH. Echoes reverberated – and then there was silence.

"My gosh, it's crashed!" Joe yelped, and headed through the trees at the fastest pace he could manage, Frank right behind him.

Despite their desperation, the boys couldn't make quick headway. The underbrush was thick, the trees close-set; thickets of brambles seemed to sprout in their path with demonic purpose. Worse, they weren't exactly sure which direction would get them most quickly to the crash site. They had a general idea, but specifics were something else again. Once, they thought they heard the sound of a helicopter in the distance, but it faded away.

After fifteen minutes of scrambling and thrashing through the woods, Joe halted and leaned against a tree, panting for breath. He took a long swig from his water bottle and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Think we're anywhere close?" he asked Frank, who was doing the same. Joe noticed Frank had lost his hat, somewhere along the way.

"Yeah—" Frank nodded while gulping water. "Joe—" he continued. "that plane – did you see the logo?" He bent over, hands on knees, pulling in a deep breath.

"No – just saw the color. Why – what about it? Did you recognize it?"

"It was – oh Joe, it was Jack's plane!" Frank's face was so white that Joe instinctively stepped closer to him, afraid he was going to collapse.

"Jack's – oh, no!" Joe slapped the top down on his water bottle and returned it to his pack. "Come on, then – let's go!" The two brothers set off again, pushing their way through underbrush, going around trees, trying all the time to stay on a course which neither could say for sure was the correct one.

 _Jack's plane…_ _no_ _, oh please, not Jack!_ Frank's thoughts kept pace with his rapid footsteps. _Not Jack!_ His mind's eye showed him Jack Wayne – the young pilot whose services Fenton Hardy had used so many times in the past – tall and lean, with dark hair and chiseled features. _He taught me to fly – I remember all those takeoffs and landings! – and he was so patient…. He'd just keep repeating something, over and over again, when I couldn't get it…until finally it sank in._ Jack, so friendly and likable, who probably would have still been Fenton's personal pilot, if circumstances hadn't forced him to concentrate solely on his charter and cargo-delivery service the previous year.

Joe's thoughts were in a similar vein. _He's got to be all right – he's such a great guy! Such a good friend – and helped Dad so many times…._ He shoved his way past a thick, spiny bush, wincing as thorns ripped at him. _He taught Frank to fly – and tried to teach me…but I didn't have the patience for it…. Hang on, Jack, we're coming!_

The trees thinned suddenly, and the going became easier. "It looks like there's some sort of opening, up ahead." Joe pointed. "Is it that lake you mentioned? Something's caused a break in the trees." He braced a hand against the bole of a nearby maple, and endeavored to catch his breath once more.

"Yeah, I see." Frank took a deep breath and scanned their surroundings. "Joe, look! Torn-off branches – and look there, smoke! – this has to be the right direction!"

Encouraged by this finding, the boys plunged into the undergrowth again, now following an increasingly-clear trail of snapped tree limbs. In a few more minutes, they emerged from the trees and found themselves near the edge of a small pond which gleamed dully under the cloudy skies. Frank seized Joe's arm and pointed, wordlessly. At the far side of the pond a crumpled, twisted mass of blue-and-white metal lay on the earth; Jack Wayne's pride and joy was smashed against a tree, its nose pointed heavenward. The stylized map with superimposed flight routes was clearly visible, painted on the side of the plane, and saucy, red script formed the words: _WAYNE'S WORLD_.

They had seen the tree take off the missing left wing, but the crash had also broken off a portion of the tail. From the pieces of fuselage that covered the area, it appeared that the plane had flipped on its back at least once before landing right side up once more. Fortunately, it looked as if its roll on the earth had smothered most of whatever fire there might have been; all that remained now were a few flickers of flame and a lot of smoke. As long as nothing ignited the gas that had spilt from the tanks, they didn't have to worry about an explosion, at least.

"Oh God!" Joe moaned and took off around the edge of the pond as fast as he could go.

"Jack?…Jack!" Frank shouted the pilot's name as they neared the downed aircraft. "JACK!" A startled screech from a crow was the only reply he received.

"No one could have survived that…" Joe whispered, with a sinking heart, but even as he spoke he was heading for the opening left by the missing tail section, with Frank right on his heels.

Inside, the wreckage was disheartening. Boxes were strewn about from the rough landing. A few had opened, revealing broken china of various colors. Joe forced himself to look toward the cockpit where he knew Jack's body would be, and shoved his way forward through the debris.

Dreading what he might find, Joe leaned into the cockpit, and caught his breath at the sight he beheld.

The pilot seemed to be semi-conscious; the only sounds Joe could hear were strained breathing and an occasional low, pain-filled groan. Blood seeped from a head wound, mixing into caramel-colored hair on which rested a small, high-tech headset. The pilot's seat had been shoved forward until its occupant was wedged tightly against the steering mechanism, and Joe saw one slender arm trapped between the yoke and the cracked instrument panel.

The younger Hardy turned back toward his brother, his face blank with shock.

"Frank – it's not Jack!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Thank you to Max2013 and Cheryl for their kind reviews!

 **APRIL SHOWERS**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 2

"What?" Frank leaned against his brother's shoulder, craning his neck to see into the cockpit. "Whaddya mean, it's not Jack?"

"It isn't Jack," Joe repeated. "It's – it's a girl!"

"A girl!" Frank caught his breath. "Omigosh – Joe, it's not…is it – April?"

 _April Wayne…_ Frank's thoughts tumbled. _Jack's little sister._ He recalled becoming acquainted with her when Jack had been teaching him to fly. She had been learning at the same time, and a friendly competition had developed between them as to who would gain the coveted pilot's license first. _Of course, it makes sense that she'd be flying for Jack's charter-cargo service…._

"April?" Joe's voice was blank for a moment. "Oh, yeah, Jack's sister." _Thought of her as a little kid – what was she, two years younger than me? Always tagging around after Jack and Frank – and staring at_ _me_ _! Hmmm, she'd be about 16 now…._ "Yeah, I think it's her." He wedged himself into the crushed cockpit and crouched beside the pilot's seat. "April? April, can you hear me?"

The girl's head lifted slightly; rolled in the direction of his voice. "Wha—"

"April, it's Joe – Joe Hardy. Remember me? Open your eyes for me, honey."

She blinked, attempting to focus on him, her hazel eyes filled with pain. "Joe? Is it really you? How – where'd you come from?" Panic suddenly flooded her voice, and she gripped Joe's arm tightly with her left hand. "Joe, get me out of here, please; I don't want to die! It's going to explode…!"

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay." Joe covered her hand with his own reassuringly, noting with relief the strength of her grip. "Frank's here too; we'll get you out. It's not going to explode; fire's out. Just take it easy for a minute." He studied her situation and winced; a jagged piece of metal had embedded itself in her right leg, just above the knee, and remained there, holding the leg immobile. Blood stained her black jeans. "You've got a piece of metal in your leg, April, but I'm not going to try getting it out just yet."

"Fine by me. That sounds painful." She attempted to smile, but failed. "Joe, I can't move my right arm."

"Frank, can you find a first-aid kit?" Joe said quietly over his shoulder. "I think we're going to need it." He felt the pressure against his back ease as Frank moved into the plane's rear section to begin his search. Joe turned back to the cockpit, studying April's arm. It was wedged tightly between the yoke and the instrument panel. "Is it just pinned, April, or injured?"

"Both." Tears trailed down her face. "I felt and heard the bone crack, in the crash."

"Let's see if I can give you a little wiggle room…." Joe tested the cracks in the panel, attempting to break some pieces free. April flinched, but Joe's efforts paid off; in a few seconds he'd gained her possibly a quarter-inch maneuvering room. "Now let's try…I'll be as gentle as I can. Go ahead and scream, if it helps."

True to his word, Joe was as gentle as possible as he extricated her arm from its trapped position. April's face paled and her jaw tightened, but she did not cry out, although tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Attagirl," Joe gave her a reassuring smile. "Okay, try to just cradle it against your chest. Frank should be back with that first aid kit in a minute."

"I'm here," Frank announced, leaning over Joe's shoulder once again. "How is she?"

April gritted her teeth against another wave of pain. "Don't think you have to lie to him, Joe, just because I'm right here."

Joe looked directly into her eyes as he answered his older brother. "She'll be okay. She's broken her arm, and she has a cut on her head. I'm going to need a hand here – there's a piece of metal in her leg. We have to remove it to get her out of the plane, and it's going to bleed. Have some four-by-fours handy."

Frank reached into the first-aid kit and grabbed a roll of sterile gauze, and a package of four-inch gauze pads. Ripping open the plastic binding, he edged around Joe. Although Frank normally had a strong stomach for blood, he felt a little queasy at the sight of the metal impaling April's right leg.

Joe took a deep breath and gently gripped her leg with both hands. "Okay, April – on the count of three I'm going to pull your leg free." He hated this, knowing how much it was going to hurt her, but he realized there was no other choice.

April's face was pale and sweat stood out on her forehead, mixing with the blood which had dripped from the gash. "Don't count, Joe. Just do it and get it over with," she groaned.

"Okay, if that's the way you want it. Be ready with that gauze, Frank." Before he said the last words, he gave her leg a sudden yank, pulling it free of the metal. Despite any brave intentions of not yelling, April screamed at the sudden pain.

Frank immediately pressed the thick bandage against the wound that was now bleeding heavily. Joe grabbed the roll of gauze and wrapped it around the padding; holding it firmly in place. April's screams diminished into sobs, then abruptly ceased. Joe gave her a quick look, alarmed by the sudden silence, and was worried by the grayish pallor that had come over her face. Her eyes rolled backward.

"April, stay with us;we're almost out of this. April!" Joe sharpened his tone as he repeated her name, hoping to shock her back to consciousness. She whimpered softly, and her eyes fluttered open once more. "You're doing great, April, just hang on another minute."

He noticed that blood was already soaking the bandage on her leg, but there was nothing more he or Frank could do while she remained where she was. Joe glanced up at Frank, and the older boy nodded and tilted his head toward the back of the plane. They had no choice; they would have to move April out of the cockpit onto the ground outside so they could effectively treat her injuries. Very carefully, Joe unfastened the seat belt and disentangled it from her, and removed her headset.

Frank eased one arm behind her back and the other beneath her legs. "April, I'm going to pull you to me, okay? You just relax, and let me do all the work." With slow, gentle moves, he pulled her against his chest, as Joe supported her from the other side. The girl had to bite her lower lip to keep from screaming as the movement jarred her injuries.

Finally she was free from the seat. Frank cradled her in his arms, bending low. Joe led the way out of the plane, pushing aside anything that might trip his brother and cause April more pain. Her head lolled against Frank's shoulder, and she moaned softly with each breath. Passing a broken-open compartment, Joe snatched up the blanket trailing from it.

"Here…it's fairly flat." Joe indicated a spot on the ground and hastily cleared away bits of plane wreckage, then spread the blanket out. He slid his arms under April's limp body, helping Frank ease her down. "April? Honey, you still with me?"

"Yes…." The word was a mere breath of sound, but as April realized she was finally released from her prison, she opened her eyes and tried to smile. "Thank you…." The words broke off suddenly, and she cried out in pain once more.

"What? What's wrong?" Frank gasped, alarmed.

April clutched at her right side. "Hurts…" she moaned. "Don't – can't lie – down…"

The boys exchanged glances. "Ribs?" Joe whispered, and Frank nodded tentative agreement.

"Let's prop her up – there, move the blanket over there—" Frank indicated a large rock close to the edge of the pond. "Put your backpack against that rock, and then spread the blanket over." He scooped April up once more and moved her to the relocated blanket. Together, he and Joe eased her down into a reclining position, then tucked the edges of the blanket about her.

"Is that okay, April?" Frank bent close, speaking softly.

The girl was extremely pale, but she managed a wan smile. "Yeah…it's just great," she whispered. "I'm sorry to be – so much trouble…."

"Hey, no trouble at all." Joe grinned at her. "Frank loves to show off all the stuff he learned in his Advanced First Aid class." He didn't bother to mention that _he_ had exactly the same information at his fingertips; they'd attended the classes together.

"Speaking of advanced first aid, let's see what we can to do patch you up," Frank suggested. He unfolded the lower portion of the blanket and checked the bandage on April's leg; to his dismay, it was already soaked through with blood. "Joe," he summoned his brother quietly. Joe leaned, looked, and winced, then went back into the plane to retrieve the first aid kit.

Using fresh four-by-four pads and more of the roll of gauze, the brothers re-bandaged April's leg wound. She couldn't stifle whimpers of pain as Frank wound the gauze about her leg and fastened it securely.

"I'm sorry, kiddo; I know it hurts," Frank tried to soothe her. He found a chunk of wood and propped her leg on it, hoping the elevation would slow the bleeding.

Joe, meanwhile, had found a towel in the plane, soaked it in water from the lake, and was gently sponging the blood from April's face. The cut at her hairline had nearly stopped bleeding now, but her hair was matted with coagulating blood, and an occasional trickle slid down the side of her face. When he had gotten as much of the dried blood off as he could, the younger Hardy laid a smaller gauze pad against the cut and wound more gauze about April's head to hold it in place.

"You're beginning to look like an extra from a war movie," Joe teased her gently. "Bandages here, bandages there…."

"I feel like I've been through a war," April said weakly. She tried to shift position a little, and winced. "My arm is really beginning to hurt," she admitted.

"Jeez, I'd forgotten about your arm!" Joe carefully loosened the blanket he had tucked about her so assiduously. "Frank, are there any such things as splints in that first aid box?" He asked the question without much hope of an affirmative reply; he knew they weren't standard issue.

"Nope," Frank sighed and felt in his pocket for his knife. "I'll smooth down some sticks. There's plenty around, at least."

"You – you're not going to – try and set it – or anything…are you?" April asked apprehensively.

"Not a chance," Joe assured her. "We'll just splint it and let the doctors set it at the hospital. Once it's immobilized, it shouldn't hurt you too much, so long as you're careful not to bounce it around."

"Hospital?" April spoke wistfully. "How am I going to get to a hospital?"

"Never underestimate the Hardys." Frank smiled warmly at her as he knelt beside Joe, holding several thin, flat-edged pieces of wood. "As soon as you're settled, and we've done everything we can to make you comfortable, one of us will head back to where we've parked our van. We have a cell phone there, and we'll call the county sheriff's department for an airlift." He sighed. "I wish we had the phone here – but it wouldn't have worked anyway; North Woods is sort of a dead zone. That's why it's locked in the glove compartment."

"And the other will stay here with you," Joe chimed in. "Okay, let's get these in place." He lifted her arm gently, and held it so that Frank could lay his improvised splints against her lightweight jacket sleeve, then secure them with more of the rolled gauze. When the procedure was completed, Joe wrapped April snugly in the blanket again, and patted her gently before rising to his feet. "You just take it easy now, all right?"

"Okay….Oh, hey – could I…is there…any aspirin in that box?"

Frank tilted an eyebrow dubiously and mouthed _Should we?_ to Joe. Joe looked indecisive, then nodded, and rummaged for a package of Tylenol.

"These'll be okay," he murmured to Frank. "I know it's iffy to give her painkillers, but I'm not going to sit here and watch her hurting and not do anything about it!" He knelt beside April once more and uncapped his water bottle. "Here you go, kiddo." He helped her to swallow the gel caps, then offered the water again. "Try and drink some more, even if you don't feel thirsty."

"I am thirsty," she admitted. She snaked her good hand from beneath the blankets and took the bottle of water from Joe. "Just let me hold it; I promise I'll keep drinking."

Frank stood now, and pulled off his backpack. "I'll make the trip to the van," he offered, taking a few items from the pack and slipping them into his pockets. "You'll be okay here?"

"Sure." Joe walked with him to the edge of the trees. "You sure you know the way? We didn't exactly follow a trail here."

"We may not have followed one, but we sure left one," Frank chuckled. "We mashed enough stuff for a herd of elephants!" He clapped his younger brother on the shoulder. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Take good care of April." Joe nodded soberly, and watched as Frank trotted off through the trees.

When Joe returned to April's side, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Alone at last," she quipped weakly.

"Hey, I love being in a secluded forest with a pretty girl," Joe responded, his deep blue eyes twinkling. "You doing okay now?" he then asked her gently.

"It's not too bad – as long as I don't move…or breathe too deep." She blinked drowsily. "Is it okay if I sleep for a while?"

"Mmmm…why don't you try and stay awake? With that bang on the head… Come on, talk to me. Help me out, here….tell me what you're doing flying your brother's cargo plane."

"I'm a licensed pilot," she said, somewhat defiantly. "Jack needs all the help he can get, and I work for a lot cheaper than he could hire anyone else."

"Aren't you still in school? I don't remember seeing you around, in the halls…." He considered her as he spoke. Light brown hair, hazel eyes, regular features – admittedly somewhat marred by the current circumstances – not as tiny as Megan; not as tall as Vanessa, probably about 5'6 or so. Slender athletic build, her legs long in proportion to the rest of her body.

She chuckled ruefully. "Joe, I'm a sophomore. You're a senior, and one of the Big Wheels in school. Just how likely are you to notice me in the halls? That is, unless you and your friends are sizing up and rating all the girls in the freshman and sophomore classes."

Joe blushed to the roots of his blonde hair at her blunt – and accurate – assessment. "I don't do that!" he protested.

"You don't? You're in the minority, then." She smiled at him sympathetically. "I heard about Iola's death, Joe. I'm so very sorry."

Joe looked down at the ground. "Yeah…yeah, it – I'm sorry too." He squared his shoulders and met her gaze. "But it's over and done with…and I don't take part in those ratings sessions you're talking about…Vanessa would kill me!"

"Vanessa? Who's Vanessa?" she asked, almost sharply.

"Vanessa Bender…you may have seen her at school…really tall, long blonde hair, able to work magic with computers – drives a red Jeep Wrangler?"

"Oh – yes, I have seen her. She – you're dating her now?" There was a very wistful expression in April's hazel eyes as she asked the question, but Joe didn't notice.

"Uh-huh. For about a year now." He reached over and snugged the blanket more tightly about April's shoulders. "You warm enough?"

"Yes….Are Frank and Callie Shaw still dating?"

 _Lord, more girl-gossip!_ Joe mentally rolled his eyes, but answered her question. He wanted her to stay awake, after all, so he couldn't complain about her choice of conversation. "No, Callie is going to college in Colorado, and she has a boyfriend there. Frank's involved with – darn near engaged, I think! – a girl he met at school this year. Her name is Megan Wright. She didn't go to high school in Bayport; she used to live in New York City."

"Really?" April's tone was both awed and somewhat saddened. "I thought Frank and Callie would be together till the end of time!"

"Yeah, I guess a lot of people thought that." Joe got up to check the bandages on April's leg, and scowled when he saw bloodstains seeping through the padding again. "April, will you kill me if I slice your pant leg open?"

She sighed. "These are my favorite jeans, but I don't suppose I have any choice in the matter, do I? Go ahead."

The first-aid box held a pair of sharp scissors, which Joe used to cut the fabric from the hem to where the bloodied cloth had been shredded by the metal fragment. He undid the bandages and frowned at what was revealed. "This needs stitching; just bandages aren't going to do the trick."

"Oh no!" April propped herself painfully on an elbow. "First aid classes or no first aid classes. I don't care if you're Dr. Mark Sloane or Georgio Armani, you are not going to sew up my leg out here in the middle of the woods!"

Joe cocked a quizzical eyebrow. "Armani I know, but who the heck is Mark Sloane?"

April groaned. "Joe Hardy, don't you ever watch television? He's a doctor who moonlights as a detective!" A lopsided smile showed. "Whereas you're a detective who seems to be moonlighting as a doctor at the moment!"

Joe began to laugh. "Well, don't worry! I wasn't intending to try stitching you up! But somebody will, eventually." He applied another bandage to the cut and re-wrapped her leg once more. "We got sidetracked, April; you were starting to tell me about you flying for Jack, remember?"

"Oh – that's right." She settled back carefully, letting Joe tuck her into the blankets. "I fly cargo and charter runs for him in the afternoons and on weekends. I arranged all my classes so that I'm done at 11:00 every day. By noon I can be at the airstrip."

"I see." Joe nodded his understanding. "Jack's business going okay? I mean, if he needs you to do runs, he must be busy, right?"

"Yeah…." April sounded doubtful. "We have two planes now…had two, I mean!" She looked over at the crumpled aircraft and her voice choked with tears. "Jack is absolutely going to go ballistic about this!" There was pain in her eyes that had little to do with her injuries. "He'll never forgive me for wrecking one of his planes."

"He'll go ballistic until he knows you're all right. Then he'll be too relieved to be mad," Joe assured her.

"You haven't seen Jack lately, have you?"

"No, I guess I haven't. Why?"

"Because everything is bottom-line with Jack now. If it costs money – or doesn't make money – it's a waste of time." April's tone was bitter. "He's changed, Joe."

Joe searched for a suitable reply. "I guess owning your own business might do that to you," he admitted. _Although I never thought it would affect Jack like that!_

April closed her eyes, effectively shutting down the conversation. Joe was willing to let her rest, although he knew he needed to keep her from falling asleep. He drew up his knees and rested his chin on them, staring thoughtfully at the smashed-up airplane. _I wonder what caused the crash in the first place? It sounded like some sort of explosion…I'll ask Frank when he comes back, what he remembers about it._

After letting ten minutes or so elapse, Joe reached a hand to April's shoulder. "April? You still awake?"

"Mmmm." She didn't open her eyes.

"April." He shook her just a little. "Wake up, kiddo."

Slowly the hazel eyes opened and focused on him. "I'm awake…what's wrong?" She gazed at him blankly. "Joe Hardy? What're you doing here?" She blinked at her surroundings. "What am I doing in the woods?"

 _Uh-oh! What happened here? She was fine a little bit ago…!_ Joe laid his hand on her cheek, and found her skin cool and clammy to the touch. "April, don't you remember? The plane crash?" He slid his hand downward and pressed his fingertips against her carotid artery, finding the pulse there disquietingly rapid and weak.

"The plane crash…oh – yeah, I remember now. I'm sorry, Joe." Suddenly, she began to shiver. "I'm so cold…."

 _Oh Lord, she's going into shock!_ "I'll get another blanket from the plane, April. Just hang on for a minute; I'll be right back." Joe hurried into the tail section of the downed craft, trying to recall exactly which compartment had held the blankets. _Frank, get a move on; get some help here! This is turning into a Situation, with a capital "s"!_

In a flurry of impatience, Joe yanked at the various compartments, looking for additional blankets. Finally his search was rewarded, and he pulled out one, then another. He bundled the blankets into his arms, and reached to shove the compartment closed…and froze, one hand outstretched.

 _What the…?_ Joe leaned closer, hardly breathing. At the back of the storage unit, effectively hidden from view until he had taken away the concealing blankets, there sat two rectangular shapes. Each a little larger than a brick, perhaps…securely wrapped in heavy clear plastic…deadly in their pure, snowy-white beauty.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 3

Joe Hardy stared down at what he was positive _had_ to be kilos of cocaine. _What is going on here? Jack and April running drugs?_ _Can't_ _be…but what else could it – nah, no way!_ Joe's immediate responsibilities surged to the forefront of his mind; he knew he had to get back to April immediately. He stuffed one of the blankets back into the compartment, effectively hiding his damning discovery, then hurried out of the plane once more.

April gazed up at him with tear-filled eyes when he knelt beside her. "Joe…I feel awful," she whispered. "So cold…and sick… Everything hurts."

"Take it easy, you'll be all right." Joe spread the second blanket over her, then sat down and carefully gathered her bundled form against him. It was difficult to do without hurting either her ribs or her fractured arm, but he managed to slide her into his lap, unzipped his jacket, and cuddled her close, hoping to add the warmth of his body to that of the blankets. "You'll be warmer in just a minute."

"Joe – I'm not going to make it…am I?" she whispered, letting her eyes slide closed. "I'm going to die…." She shivered in his arms.

"No, you're not going to die; don't say things like that!"

"Listen – please, listen to me…" April's light voice wavered. "I want you to promise me something.…Will you – and Frank – please look out for Jack?"

"April, you aren't going to die, you're just feeling bad because of—" Joe paused. "What about Jack?"

"I think he's – in trouble….He's been acting so strange lately." Her voice was strengthening now, and Joe felt her convulsive shivers easing off as she grew warmer. "He's been having these – meetings, out of the office….And he's really distant and angry with me, all the time." She was starting to cry again, quietly; tears streaming down her face. Joe rocked her a little, soothingly.

"Today – we both had flights scheduled. My plane wasn't finished loading…Jack's was ready to go. He got tied up, talking to a potential customer on the phone…."

Joe wanted to tell her to stop talking and rest, but his curiosity was too strong. _I've got to know what's going on with Jack…._ He made a long stretch and grasped his water bottle; offered April a sip, then resumed his gentle rocking, listening silently to her tear-choked recital.

"I didn't want to wait for my plane to finish being loaded…so I decided to switch flights with him, to save time. We've done it before; no big deal….Only this time – this time, when I was in the air, Jack radioed me. He reamed me out for taking his flight – screamed and yelled something awful." April paused, and Joe felt her head sag against his shoulder.

"Then what happened?" he encouraged her quietly.

"He told me to come back…ordered me, like I was a little kid, or his slave, or something." Even though weak and pain-filled, April's voice conveyed her indignation, and Joe's mouth twitched into a smile as he listened. "He made me so mad – so I turned off the radio…and then went on with the flight." Suddenly she began to cry again, harder now. "When the engine blew out, I tried to call in – but the radio wouldn't work…it wouldn't work…! And I knew I was going to die…the trees tore the wing off the plane… I tried to get to the little lake…." Sobs choked off the words.

"Shhhh, it's okay; you aren't going to die," Joe soothed her. "You're going to be fine; things'll be all right with Jack; don't worry…." He felt her shake her head against his shoulder. "I promise, April, Frank and I will make sure Jack's okay." _Jack, you'd better be worth your little sister's worry and grief, that's all I can say!_

April's sobs subsided, and eventually she relaxed into a light doze. Joe let her rest for a few minutes, then jiggled her gently.

"April, time to wake up; don't go all the way asleep, okay?" _Come_ _on_ _Frank; get me some help here!_ April opened her eyes and gazed at him sleepily, then looked around, apparently surprised to find herself wrapped in Joe's jacket and cradled in his lap.

"What – why—?"

Joe summoned his cheeriest smile. "You had a little bout with shock; I'm just trying to keep you warm. No ulterior motives, I swear."

"I might not mind an ulterior motive," she murmured absently – and then blushed crimson, realizing what she had said.

Joe chuckled. "I think you must be feeling a little better," he said. "Talk to me some more, April; you need to stay awake. Tell me more about the air cargo business. What do you and Jack transport?"

"Just about anything…packages, supplies, food…passengers. Anything to make a buck. Jack's been strapped, financially, ever since he started the business…." She trailed off, thoughtfully. "But he's had more money, just lately. I'm not sure where it came from." She turned to face Joe, with a sudden movement that made her wince and gasp momentarily. "I'm afraid to know where it's coming from, Joe."

Before Joe could frame a reply, a sound in the distance caught his attention. "Listen—" He cocked his head, concentrating on identification. "I think I hear – sounds like – sounds like a helicopter, April!" He hugged her gently, laughing with relief. "I think the cavalry is on the way!"

A few minutes later, a sleek red-and-white helicopter settled down in the clearing. Rotors switched off, the blades ceased their whirling, and three figures leaped out: two paramedics, carrying their gear, and Frank Hardy. He darted ahead of the EMTs, rushing to his brother's side.

"Is everything okay? How's April, Joe?"

"She's fine," Joe assured him. "She got a little cold, but everything's okay now." He cautiously unwrapped his jacket from around April's blanketed form, and eased her onto the ground again so the medics could begin their examination. He stood up and the two boys walked a short distance away.

Efficiently, the two paramedics released April from her cocoon of blankets. They checked her bandaged leg – Joe noticed with relief that no bloodstains showed – and examined her splinted arm; took her blood pressure and flashed a penlight in her eyes. In a few minutes, an IV was started, and a cervical collar had been placed around April's neck. When they attempted to immobilize her, in case of spinal injury, however, they encountered resistance.

"Not a chance! No way! My ribs hurt enough already; you're not trussing me up like a turkey! There's nothing wrong with my spine; I'll get up and show you—" April endeavored to pull herself upright, but both the paramedics and the Hardys converged upon her, forcing her to stay put.

"Okay, okay, we'll let it go." The EMT sighed. "Let's get her on the stretcher, and get to the hospital."

When she was secured on the stretcher, ready to be placed in the chopper, April held up her hand, signaling _wait_ , and beckoned the Hardys to her side.

"Thank you both – so much. I can never thank you enough," she whispered, pulling Joe down to where he could hear her. "and…Joe…about Jack…?"

He nodded reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. You just take it easy. We'll be at the hospital later, to see how you're doing." He squeezed her hand; Frank patted her shoulder, and the medics bore her away to the waiting helicopter. A minute or two later, the boys stood watching the aircraft recede into the distance, its distinctive _whickety-whickety_ sound reaching their ears after it was out of sight.

Joe turned away to retrieve his backpack from its place against the rock. "Guess we should put the blankets back in the plane," he muttered. _How do I get started telling Frank about this? He's gonna blow a gasket when he sees that cocaine!_

Frank slid his arms into his own discarded backpack. "Yeah – and then get back to our own camp, and get packed up." He straightened, adjusting the pack, and saw Joe's face. "Hey, are you all right? You look almost as pale as April did!"

"I want to show you something." Joe evaded a direct reply. He jerked his head toward the downed plane. "In there." He scooped the blankets into his arms and led the way into the interior. Frank followed him, frowning slightly. Joe folded the blankets meticulously, gathering his composure, then finally knelt and tugged open the compartment. "It's in here."

Frank leaned over and looked. "It's another blanket," he said patiently. "Joe, is this some kind of a joke?"

"No, damn it!" Joe snatched the concealing fabric up and gestured toward the compartment. "Look, Frank!"

For a long moment there was silence in the little plane, as Frank stared at the white packages. Finally he spoke: "Houston, I think we have a problem…."

"You're telling me!" Joe dropped the blanket again and leaned against the wall. "Frank, after I found this, April said Jack's been acting funny – "

"You asked April about it?" Frank cut in sharply.

"No, no…she was kinda out of it right then; slipping into shock. She thought she was going to die, and she asked us to look out for Jack, because she thought he was in trouble. Said he'd been secretive and real touchy – and all of a sudden he had money." Joe paused for breath. "She said Jack was supposed to take this flight today; but she'd switched with him because her plane wasn't loaded and this one was. And he was really mad at her for doing it."

Frank chewed his lip. "The right thing to do would be to turn this over to the police right away, you know," he said noncommittally.

"April asked for help, Frank…and it's Jack." Joe's response was just as casual-sounding as Frank's remark, but volumes of information were packed into those few words.

"So let's get it out of here." Frank reached into the compartment and picked up the packages, one by one. He handed them to Joe, who wrapped them in the blanket he still carried. Together, feeling as if the forest had suddenly grown eyes that were peering at them from every side, the two boys exited the plane and walked into the woods.

A few hundred feet from the crash site, Frank paused near what appeared to be a rockslide. He glanced around thoughtfully, then nodded. "This should do."

He began moving some of the rocks carefully, excavating a space large enough to conceal the packages. After Joe had set them in place, both boys worked putting rocks back, then Joe dragged a couple of tree limbs – freshly snapped off by the passage of April's plane – to further cover the hiding place.

"There." Joe stepped back and surveyed their handiwork. "Looks like any other part of the woods."

"Just so long as we can find it again," Frank commented dryly. He looked carefully at their surroundings, attempting to locate an identifying landmark. Joe too gazed about, frowning in concentration.

"There." Joe pointed. "Holly bush. There aren't too many of those around. We're about…20 feet from the holly bush, and on the right-hand side of this rockfall."

"Okay, good enough," Frank conceded. "Now, let's get back to camp before it gets dark. I've got a little flashlight, but I'd rather not get caught in the woods with just that."

The boys set off once more, consciously refraining from talking about Joe's discovery. It was too overwhelming an idea, that Jack Wayne might be involved in smuggling cocaine, for them to casually discuss it while hiking through the woods. Frank, especially, was too stunned; he needed some time to think things through before he tried to talk about the situation.

"Let's make a final check of the crash site before we leave the area," Joe suggested as they neared the downed plane once more. "There might be something in the plane that April needs or wants…."

Before they reached the clearing, however, they caught the sound of deep rough voices raised in argument. Frank held out his hand to stop his younger brother. Joe frowned. "Could that be the sheriff already?"

Joe's whisper was barely audible even to Frank, so there was no chance that he had been overheard. Frank shrugged, and breathed a reply: "I don't see how. It took me over an hour to hike out. When the 'copter picked me up to come back here, the sheriff was still getting mobilized."

"IT HAS TO BE HERE!" Frank and Joe couldn't see speakers, in the lengthening shadows of twilight, but their voices were clear.

"You think Wayne double-crossed us?"

"He'd better not have – not if he knows what's good for him."

Joe shot a quick look toward his brother, and caught a return glance. It was obvious they were thinking the same thing: _Are these guys looking for the drugs? How did they get to the crash site so fast?_ Frank took a step closer, hoping to get a better look at them. If these were the men with whom Jack had gotten involved in shadowy dealings, he and Joe might need to recognize them later.

Unfortunately, the encroaching darkness prevented him from seeing the small limb, newly fallen to the ground from the plane's passage, directly underfoot. The sudden _snap_ was like a thunderclap in the still of the late afternoon. Immediately the two men whirled in their direction, and then a familiar, unmistakable sound reached their ears: the sound of a gun – no, more than one gun – being cocked.

"All right, freeze! Hold it right there, you two – no sudden moves, or you'll regret it," a cold voice snapped.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Thank you to Cheryl and Max2013 for their reviews; much appreciated!

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 4

Frank and Joe instinctively swung into defensive positions; backs together. After the first moves, however, they remained motionless, not wanting to risk disobeying the command.

The two men stepped forward, holding guns which were trained unerringly upon the boys. Both wore rugged outdoor gear, and menacing expressions.

"What're you kids doing here?" snapped one of the men. As he stepped nearer, Frank and Joe could see he was somewhat short, with receding dark hair and an evident paunch. He held an unlit cigar clenched in his teeth

"Hiking," Frank replied coolly. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Damn right we do," the other man growled. "What are you doing around this crash site?" The speaker was taller than his companion; he had broad shoulders and thick, sandy hair, and he looked as if he spent most of his spare time working out.

"We're hiking," Joe piped up.

Hearing his brother's voice, Frank fought to conceal a smile. _Joe's in his "innocent" mode…well, let's play it that way, then…._

"We've been camping for the past couple of days – over that way—" Joe gestured widely in no specific direction. "and this afternoon we thought we saw a plane come down here. We hiked over to see." He gave them his most charming, innocent smile. "What's wrong with that? Say, do you suppose you could put that—" gesturing toward the gun, "away? You're making me kinda nervous."

"Did you see anyone here?" the shorter man demanded sharply, still not lowering the handgun.

"No…no one." Frank poured sincerity into his soft baritone. People usually believed Frank – even when he was lying. "There wasn't anyone around. Why? Who are you guys?"

"We're from the FAA," the big man responded. He slid his gun into his coat pocket and nudged his companion to do the same. "Sorry, kids, we didn't mean to frighten you. We were sent to the crash site to secure it. The pilot asked that we come here – he was worried about the cargo on board being left out here unattended – it's valuable stuff, you understand."

 _Oh, I understand all too well,_ Frank thought. _So "he" – the pilot – asked you to come secure the valuable cargo, hmm?_ He felt Joe stiffen against his back as the man's words struck home. _I hope "he" wasn't Jack!_ Aloud, Frank said: "Yeah, sure, we understand. But things looked pretty broken up, in the plane."

"You went into the plane?" The shorter man was reaching into his pocket again, and there was threatening menace in his tone.

"We looked inside, sure." Joe made his voice quiver slightly. "We didn't know it was wrong to do that, Mister."

"Ernie, quit scaring these kids. They aren't doing anything wrong; you heard 'em, they just were curious." The big guy made a shooing gesture with his hand. "Go on, fellas, it's okay. We're just going to check over the crash site and fill out our reports."

"Thanks, we'll be on our way then." Frank nudged Joe slightly, and they moved down the trail, glancing back once or twice as they departed, trying to look as innocently curious as possible.

Once they were far enough away to be out of earshot, Frank seized Joe's elbow and pulled him to a halt. "What was that all about?" he murmured.

Joe shook his head. "FAA my a— um, they weren't from the FAA." He snorted eloquently. "FAA wouldn't have gotten someone there that fast – hey, how did they get there, anyway? Did they just spring up from under a rock?" He resumed his trek along the path. "Hmmm, did you hear a helicopter once, when we were going to the site of the crash? I thought I did – but it didn't sound close. Wonder if that's where those two came from?"

"Good question, little brother." Frank walked in thoughtful silence for a bit. "I suspect they were there to collect a certain package before the real FAA investigators show up," he said finally. "And they probably had the plane on radar when it went down. By the way – did you notice that when Mr. Terrible referred to the pilot he said 'he'?"

"I noticed," Joe replied glumly. "They expected Jack to be piloting the plane."

"This doesn't look good for Jack, you know."

"Frank, I can't believe Jack's involved in a drug scheme!" Joe burst out, stopping to face his older brother. "You're talking about Jack Wayne, remember?"

"I know, I know." Frank raised his hands, trying to calm Joe's flaring temper. "I don't want to believe it, Joe; I just said it doesn't look good."

Joe snarled wordlessly in frustration, and turned to plunge into the trees again. Frank sighed and followed. They hiked for some time in silence before Joe halted and turned to face his brother again.

"Frank, there's got to be some other explanation. I will not believe either Jack or April could do something like that."

"Joe, you heard it from April herself. Jack's evasive and upset; he's got money troubles; he was supposed to be piloting this flight…this flight, on which happens to be a couple kilos of coke! At least, we assume that's what it is. Until I hear something different, that's all I have to go on. We need to talk to Jack, I guess…if he's talking to us these days." Frank started down the trail again, head bent. Joe followed him, his mouth set in a grim line.

Upon reaching their campsite, the brothers efficiently set about breaking camp, taking down the tent, packing up their gear. Although their original plan had been to stay five days in the woods, neither boy was in any mood to continue the camping trip. Both of them wanted to get back to Bayport as soon as possible. They spoke very little; each busy with his own thoughts.

It was fully dark when they finally finished clearing the evidence of their stay. Frank flicked on his little flashlight and sighed.

"I really didn't want to make this hike in the dark."

"It'll be okay." Joe laid a hand on his older brother's shoulder.

"What makes you so sure of that?" Frank morosely watched the small beam of light play on the surrounding trees.

"Because—" Joe's voice rippled with amusement. "I've got a flash too." He reached into his duffel bag and drew out an 18-inch Maglite. When he pressed the button, a powerful beam of white light flared in the dark clearing, totally eclipsing Frank's tiny flash.

Frank stared, opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it with an audible snap. Wordlessly, he turned and started along the path to the trailhead, while Joe fell in behind, his laughter ringing through the trees.

#####

Eight-thirty in the morning found the Hardys heading toward the hospital where they hoped to see April. Frank had telephoned, when they arrived home the previous evening, and was assured that Miss Wayne had been admitted to the hospital; that her injuries had been attended to, and that she was currently sedated, but would be allowed to receive visitors the next day. Realizing there was nothing more they could do that night, the boys went to bed, exhausted.

"I hope she's feeling okay," Joe commented now, staring out the side window at the smooth-moving traffic around the van.

Frank glanced over at him, smiling a little. "For a girl you never paid any attention to when you knew her before, April sure seems to be on your mind a lot," he teased.

Joe flushed. "She was just a little brat back when we first met her. Why would I have paid any attention to her? Besides – I feel like I got to know her a whole lot better, yesterday. She's a nice kid, and I think she's getting a raw deal. Even if Jack isn't running drugs, she says he's been on her case lately, and she doesn't deserve that."

"You don't know that," Frank reminded him. "Don't make snap judgments, Joe."

Joe ignored him, and studied the passing scenery with great attention.

Inquiring at the front desk, they were told where April's room was, and took an elevator to the third floor. As Frank and Joe walked down the hospital corridor, nurses and orderlies hurried past on errands, paying no special attention to the two teens. They quietly approached room 329, and heard voices coming through the partly-opened door…voices raised in anger.

"If you'd taken your own flight, like you were supposed to…!" The boys exchanged glances; they recognized Jack Wayne's deep tones. They hesitated, unwilling to walk into the middle of an argument.

"I've switched runs with you before; it never made any difference!" April exclaimed, her voice shaky. She sounded near tears.

"Yeah, well, this time it did. And see what happened? Now we're short a plane. How am I going to get all those deliveries made on time, with only one plane – and now you're in here, and I'm short a pilot, too!"

"You care more about the plane than you do me!" April cried. "Oh, you're such a great guy, Jack! I could have been killed, for all you care, as long as the plane came down intact!"

"That's not true, and you know it, you silly little brat!" Jack snapped. "But if I'd been piloting that run, this wouldn't have happened!"

"I didn't do anything wrong! I'm a perfectly capable pilot, and I didn't do anything to cause that crash! You're saying now that I'm not good enough to fly for you?"

At this juncture, Frank rapped on the door and pushed it open. He entered the hospital room with Joe at his heels; both of them looking apologetic, but resolute.

"Hi April, hi Jack," Frank said calmly. "We thought we'd come by and see how you were feeling now, April."

How April was feeling was all too evident. She was propped half-sitting in the hospital bed, her right arm in a cast and sling; her head bandaged, and an IV tube attached to her left hand…and at the moment, she was crimson with fury, tears running down her face in a steady stream. She looked totally miserable.

"Frank – Joe! Hey, hi you guys." Jack forced a smile; held out his hand to each of the boys in turn. "I'm glad you showed up; I wanted to thank you for helping April yesterday."

"We were glad to do it, Jack," Frank replied. "We're glad she's going to be okay."

"Hey Frank—" Joe caught his brother's attention. "Why don't you and Jack go out in the hall for a little while, and let me talk to April. Three visitors at a time is probably too many, don't you think?"

"Oh, yeah, right…" Frank grasped the tall pilot's arm and steered him towards the door. "Come on, Jack, let's go over to the waiting room, and get a cup of coffee." Before the surprised Jack could protest, Frank had him in the hall, and he closed the door firmly behind him as he left.

Joe walked over to April. "Hey, kiddo," he said quietly. "What's shakin'?" He perched on the edge of the bed and searched the bedside table for a box of tissues; achieving his goal, he dabbed at April's wet face with one, then put another into her good hand. "Blow," he instructed. She obeyed, attempting to laugh a little through her tears.

"You – treat me like – I'm five years old," she gulped accusingly.

"Nope. Not at all." _Well, maybe a little,_ Joe thought, suddenly remembering Rachel Thomas, a five-year-old with a similarly tear-streaked face he had encountered a couple of months before. "I see they got the blood out of your hair," he commented, candidly surveying her. The caramel-colored hair looked clean, and had been neatly brushed and plaited into two braids. If not for the bandage, one would never know April had been in a plane crash, just by looking at her face.

"One of the nurses' aides did that – it was so nice of her…." April turned her face toward the window, away from Joe. "You heard Jack, didn't you? He got here early this morning…and he's been yelling at me ever since."

"I bet he's just feeling guilty because you were hurt. Guilt makes people act angry, sometimes." Joe patted her shoulder. "What were all your injuries, when everything was tallied up?"

April turned back toward him. "Oh, nothing too serious. The broken arm, some bruised ribs – one was cracked, but nothing actually broken; the cut on my head, and of course, the one on my leg." She stretched out her left hand and laid it on his arm. "I would have bled to death if you and Frank hadn't been there."

"The important thing is, you didn't bleed to death. You feeling okay now? I mean, you're not in too much pain?" Joe took her hand, carefully avoiding the IV setup, and felt her fingers curl around his.

"It's not too bad, and they're giving me stuff for the pain. Actually, the ribs hurt more than anything else." Her eyes filled with tears again. "Jack's so mad at me, because I wrecked his plane…I didn't mean to, Joe!"

"Hey, of course you didn't mean to!….don't cry anymore, huh? There's only one box of Kleenex in here!" Joe handed her another tissue. "April, Jack's upset right now…he was probably worried sick about you, and his reaction is to get mad and yell. I know it's a funny way of showing that he cares, but sometimes that's what people do."

"He didn't use to yell at me all the time," she said in a small voice, but she managed a tentative smile. Joe returned the smile, much encouraged.

"Attagirl…feeling a little better now?"

She nodded. "Do you specialize in this – making people feel better, I mean? Not rescuing them from plane wrecks."

Joe's grin widened. "Yup."

In the visitors' lounge, Frank poured two cups of coffee and handed Jack one. "Let's sit down, Jack," he invited. They walked over to two comfortable-looking chairs. For a few moments they sat, sipping meditatively.

"April's going to be all right, I take it?" Frank finally broke the silence. "Her injuries weren't too severe?"

"Yeah – she had that bad cut on her leg, and her arm's broken…bruised ribs. But she's probably going to be released in a day or so." Jack took another sip. "I really appreciate what you and Joe did for her." His voice tightened. "But darn it, Frank, she could have been killed! She didn't even ask me if we could switch planes! She just had to jump in and take charge! Doesn't she know that business is bad enough without her doing her own thing and not listening to me?"

"Business is bad?" Frank inquired.

"Well…not bad, exactly; I didn't mean that. But there's lots to running a charter/cargo service, and it all seems to cost money. Pilots' salaries – even though I pay myself and April only minimum – cost of repairs and upkeep to the planes – and now we'll have to replace one, damn it! – insurance for the planes, insurance for the pilots, insurance for the cargo…advertising. Money goes out and out and out…and not enough ever seems to come in to make up the difference."

"And April makes it tougher? She was always a good pilot, Jack; I don't remember you arguing with her so much back when you were teaching us both to fly."

"I didn't yell at her so much then. It was different – then she was just my little sister. I wasn't the one solely responsible for her. I am now; I'm her guardian."

 _Huh? Jack's April's guardian? What happened to their parents…wait a minute._ Frank thought furiously. _Now I remember…Jack said once that their mom died when April was born – and their dad died last summer; Mom and Dad went to the funeral._

"And April seems to have this idealistic view of life – everything is either black or white. She doesn't realize that there are a lot of shades of gray, too," Jack added, his mouth twisted bitterly at one corner.

"It seems odd for you to be doing this, instead of piloting for Dad," Frank remarked. "I always think of you doing that, rather than shuttling cargo and running charter flights. I mean, you did that too, but not full-time."

"Those were the good old days, huh?" A reminiscent smile lighted Jack's lean features momentarily. "Sometimes I really wish I still was Fenton's pilot." The smile faded abruptly. "But I needed more money than I could make doing that; it wasn't steady enough…."

"Jack, is everything okay with the business, really okay?" Frank eyed his friend over the rim of his coffee cup as he took another sip. "Because if there's anything that the Hardys can do to help…you know we're here for you, if things get out of hand."

Jack grinned dourly. "What could you do? You don't know the first thing about running a cargo delivery service. And besides, what makes you think I need your help?" he added belligerently.

Frank decided to take the bull by the horns. "Jack, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about – Joe and I saw something at the crash site—"

"Don't go there, Frank!" Jack leaped to his feet, overturning his coffee cup but paying no attention to the liquid splashing his pants. "You don't know what's going on – you don't know anything about it! Do me a favor, huh? STAY OUT OF IT!"

Jack spun on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving an open-mouthed Frank staring after him.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

I realize that no notifications are going out on this story; apparently hates me, but thank you to Cheryl and Max2013, who have hung in there and looked up the chapters to read anyway.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 5

Slowly, Frank walked into the hospital corridor and made his way back to April's room. When he arrived there, he found Jack bidding his sister goodbye.

"I've got to go, little sis. I have to meet with the FAA investigators." Jack bent over his sister and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "You get lots of rest, you hear me? I'll be back later today." He straightened, turned and held out a hand to Joe. "Thanks again for yesterday. I'm sure glad you guys were there when April needed help." He shook Frank's hand, but didn't meet the boy's eyes. "Good seeing you. Bye."

As the door was closing on Jack's tall form, it swung open again, admitting a nurse who was carrying a little paper cup. She approached April with a smile.

"Time for another pill, honey. If you're uncomfortable, this one should let you have a nice, long nap."

April obediently swallowed the medication, and meekly submitted to having her vital signs checked. When the nurse was gone, she beckoned Frank and Joe nearer to the bed.

"Would you mind staying for just a little bit – until I fall asleep?" she whispered to them. "I – get scared – lying here and remembering the crash."

"We'll stay as long as you want us, April," Frank told her. He pulled a chair close to the bedside. "Do you want to talk until you get sleepy, or should we just stay quiet and let you rest?"

"Talk to me," she requested. "Tell me about college. Joe, talk to me about school. Just fill up my head with something, so that I don't dream about hitting those trees again…."

They obeyed. Frank told her about college classes and about Megan Wright, the tiny girl with the coppery curls and long-lashed turquoise eyes, whom he loved so deeply. Joe talked about the shopping trip Vanessa, Megan and their mothers had taken to New York City for spring vacation, and how he and Frank had gone camping. He told April about spring baseball practice, and that his 18th birthday was rapidly approaching. And slowly, her eyelids grew heavier, the fingers grasping Frank's became lax in his hand. At last, April fell asleep, her breathing slow and even, and the lines of discomfort smoothed from her face.

"Let's go." Frank carefully disengaged his hand and stood up. They tiptoed from the hospital room, pulling the door nearly closed as they left. One of the nurses looked up from her work and smiled at them as they walked past the nurses' station.

"I tried to find out what's up with Jack," Frank said as he slid behind the wheel of the van, "but he blew up at me. I don't like the feeling I'm getting from him, Joe."

"Let's try again," Joe suggested. "Maybe we can catch him at the airfield and pin him down for some real answers about those packages."

When the boys arrived at the airport, they followed signs to where the cargo service planes were kept, and soon found the building and hangars where _Wayne's World_ was housed. They noted the presence of a little plane identical to the one April had been flying the day before, shining and sleek, and Frank stopped to run an affectionate hand over it.

"Man, I'd like to take this baby up sometime!" he murmured.

Joe chuckled. "Maybe you should ask Jack if you can fly April's runs while she's recovering." He paused. "Hey, maybe that's not such a bad idea, bro…."

Before he could continue with his thought, Frank grabbed his arm and pulled him against the plane. "Shhh! Look!" he whispered.

Joe looked where his brother indicated, and froze. Coming out of an office were two regrettably familiar figures: a short, plumpish man with receding dark hair, who held a cigar clamped in his teeth; and a taller man with thick sandy hair.

"Remember what we told you, Wayne!" the boys heard the tall man shout. They flattened themselves against the little blue and white plane, thankful for its shelter, and observed the two men walk across the tarmac and get into an older model Toyota Land Cruiser. Only when they were sure the vehicle was well on its way did Frank and Joe relax.

"I think we'd better check on Jack." Frank was already striding toward the office door as he spoke. When he reached his goal, however, he stopped in shock.

Jack Wayne was on the floor, curled tightly over his knees, one hand bracing himself, the other clutching at his stomach. He was gasping for breath, and groaning in pain.

"Jack!" Both boys cried out in alarm, and they rushed to his aid.

"Jack, are you okay? What happened?" Frank crouched beside the stricken pilot. Joe hovered over him worriedly.

Jack tried to laugh, but only managed another groan. "Un – unsatisfied…customer!" he gasped.

"Do you want us to call an ambulance?" Joe asked, moving toward the desk where the telephone sat.

"No – no ambulance!" Jack gasped. "I'm – okay. Just give me…a minute."

Carefully, the boys assisted Jack to his feet and eased him into his desk chair. "Just take it easy a minute, Jack," Frank told him. "Relax, and catch your breath." The elder Hardy was concerned; Jack's face was ashen, and covered with drops of sweat. He slumped forward in the chair and laid his head on the desk, on his crossed arms. For a minute or two he sat quietly, his breath coming in uneven gasps; finally he raised his head, and the Hardys were relieved to see some color had returned to his cheeks.

"I'm okay guys; thanks all the same." Jack endeavored to smile.

"Want to tell us what happened?" Frank asked him, his voice deceptively mild. "We saw the guys leaving, Jack. If you're going to tell me those were FAA investigators, I'm not going to believe you, you know. As a rule, FAA people don't beat up business owners."

"Like I told you, they're – customers. They had cargo on the plane April crashed yesterday. They're not exactly happy about what happened." Jack straightened up and winced, gingerly feeling his midsection. "Not happy at all."

Frank and Joe exchanged glances, and then Joe spoke: "Jack, that cargo you mentioned. Was it by any chance a package that was stuffed in a compartment under some blankets? A couple of packages, that is? A couple kilos of cocaine?"

Jack stared at him, his eyes like flint chips. "How do you know about that?"

 _He_ _did_ _know about it!_ Joe's heart sank, and he saw by Frank's expression that his older brother was feeling the same way. _I can't believe this! How could Jack have come to this?_

"I found it when I got extra blankets for April," Joe said, very low. "She was going into shock, Jack, and I needed to keep her warm. I saw the stash then."

Jack's stare became even colder, if that was possible, and his tone was full of quiet menace when he spoke. "And what the hell did you do with it, Joe? It wasn't on the plane…I've been assured of that."

"We moved it," Frank intervened. "We didn't want you to get in trouble with the police, Jack – you or April. We figured there had to be an explanation for why you were carrying cocaine as part of your cargo…. At least, we didn't want to go to the authorities until we knew the full story. So – what is the full story, Jack?"

Jack jerked himself to his feet, glaring blackly at the brothers. "You idiots! Why did you have to interfere? Now they think I've double-crossed them – and they'll stop at nothing to get those drugs. Nothing – do you understand? Even if it means killing me – or April! You don't mess with people like them; they're too dangerous to cross."

"Then why are you messing with them?" Frank shot back. "Why are you involved with it at all?"

Jack stared at him for a long moment, then sank into his chair with a groan. "Frank, some things even the famous Hardy brothers can't understand…and this is one of them. Now, I want you to take me to the crash site, show me where you hid the coke, and then forget about this – forget everything, understand?"

Joe shook his head. "No can do, Jack."

The anger on Jack's face diminished, to be replaced by a look of pleading. "Please, boys, I'm begging you. If you ever thought of me as a friend…."

"Jack, what kind of trouble are you in?" Frank leaned across the desk to look him squarely in the eyes. "Can't you go to the police, or the DEA for help?"

"No," Jack whispered. "Please, Frank, you've got to show me where you hid it."

Five minutes later, the Hardys' van was on its way towards the North Woods, with Joe at the wheel. Although both he and Frank were dubious about the wisdom of this trip, they hadn't been able to withstand Jack's pleas, and had reluctantly agreed to show him where they had put the packages of drugs. "And anyway, I want to see the plane for myself," Jack had added. "If I hadn't wanted to be here with April, I would have gone out there this morning."

They had driven only about ten miles, however, when Joe suddenly slowed and pulled the van off to the side of the highway. He set the parking brake and turned to his astonished brother.

"Frank – Jack – I just had a horrible thought. What if those two men that beat up Jack realize that he wasn't piloting the plane – and they go after April!"

#####

The object of Joe's concern was currently sound asleep in her hospital room; the sedative had worked very well, and Frank's and Joe's casual conversations had banished – at least temporarily – the nightmares that had plagued April previously. She slept, dreamlessly; she didn't hear the door open – nor see the two dark-clad figures that entered the room and approached her bed.

"This's gotta be her," the shorter figure grunted. "April Wayne – name's right, and she's banged up enough to have been in a plane crash." He reached into an inside pocket of his coat and pulled out something – a cigar, which he proceeded to clip with a small knife. He was preparing to light it when his companion grabbed his arm.

"Are you nuts?" he hissed. "You can't smoke in a hospital, Ernie! Smoke detectors all over the place! You'll set off an alarm, and then where would we be?"

"Aagh." Disgusted, Ernie stuck the lighter and cigar back into his pocket. "All right, let's wake her up and find out what she did with the stuff."

He leaned over the hospital bed and placed one hand across April's mouth, then shook her shoulder with the other. "Hey! Wake up!" he snapped.

April moved her head slightly, but did not open her eyes or respond. Ernie shook her again, harder, but it took several shakes and one or two light slaps across her cheek before the girl's eyelids lifted sluggishly and she stared up at the two men. Ernie held his hand over her mouth again, but there was no need; April was totally incapable of screaming.

"All right, we know you have it….Tell us where you put it. And we're not leaving until you do!" he growled.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Thank you to Cheryl and Max2013 who have patiently searched out new chapters and left reviews. You're appreciated more than you know!

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 6

 _What a strange dream…two guys in my hospital room…. Hey, the little one looks like Danny DeVito…only taller…funny._ April blinked drowsily. "Wha—put what?" she murmured.

"You know what, you little brat!" the man hissed. "Tell me what you did with the packages of coke!"

 _Coke? Was I supposed to buy Coke…? I bought groceries on Sunday…. Jack likes Pepsi; he hates Coke. This is such a_ _weird_ _dream – Danny DeVito wants my groceries…I wish they'd go away and let me sleep…._

"Tell us!" It was the other man speaking now. "We don't want to have to hurt you, kid; just tell us where you put it!"

 _Where did I put…must have left stuff in…_ "My car," April murmured thickly. "In the trunk – of my car….Go away, I wanna sleep…." She closed her eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

Ernie and his companion stared at each other over her head. "She put it in her car?" Ernie said blankly.

"She must have. She's too dopey to be lying to us. Come on, let's get out of here and find out where her car is. We can contact that guy at the DMV for the plate number…."

The door closed behind them. April slept peacefully on.

#####

"Come on, we've got to go back to the hospital!" Joe spun the wheel of the van, executing a neat U-turn across the fortunately deserted highway. "If those two creeps who clobbered Jack get to April, who knows what they might do to her?" He floored the gas pedal, shoving Jack and Frank back into their seats.

When they reached the hospital, Joe pulled up in front of the entrance. "You two go on in; I'll park the van and be right there." Frank and Jack leaped out and hurried into the building, while Joe shot into the nearest parking space, hastily locked the van, and dashed after his brother and friend.

By the time Frank and Jack reached April's room, Joe had caught up with them; he had taken the stairs while the other two were stuck on the elevator at the second floor, waiting for a large group of visitors to decide whether or not they were in the right wing of the hospital. The three young men burst unceremoniously into April's room…and stopped abruptly.

April was lying quietly asleep in her bed, her breathing slow and even. Jack walked over to stand beside her, shaking her gently.

"April? Hey sis…?"

Responding to her brother's familiar voice, April opened her eyes and stared groggily up at him. "Jack?…Mmmm….go 'way, 'n lemme sleep, huh?"

"You okay, April?" No more anger in Jack's voice now; nothing but tender concern.

"Uh-huh….just weird dreams….talk to me—" April yawned deeply and closed her eyes again. "later, 'kay?"

"Okay, honey." Jack smoothed her hair, and turned to the watching Hardys. "Are you convinced she's okay?" he hissed, all the tenderness vanishing from his tone in a flash. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, we can go." Joe wasn't sure whether to be relieved that April was all right, or angry with Jack's insistence on getting the stash of cocaine. "Sorry, I guess this was a wild goose chase."

"I think I'll stay with April, just in case," Frank said quietly, seating himself in the chair beside the bed. "You go ahead and take Jack to the crash site, Joe. But remember, it's a fair hike in; be sure you've got all the stuff you need."

"Yeah, I know," Joe nodded. "but we should be back in four hours, tops. Before dark, anyway." He and Jack departed quietly, leaving Frank to his guard duty and his thoughts.

 _I know April said she was fine…but she's so doped up, a buffalo stampede could have gone through here and she might not have noticed it! I wonder if I should ask the nurses if any of them saw people coming in here…?_ Frank got to his feet, following a sudden impulse, and began to quietly search the room for evidence of anything amiss. _Nothing out of place in the closet…or the bathroom…._ He stepped around the end of April's bed, eyes scanning the floor. _What the…?_ A small brown piece of _something_ caught his eye, and he bent over and picked it up, turning it curiously in his hand. _It's a…what is it?_ Unable to identify the object by sight alone, Frank raised it to his nose and sniffed – and froze. _Part of a cigar…Jack doesn't smoke, and neither do Joe or I; the doctors or nurses are out…that guy in the forest and at the airfield! They_ _were_ _here!_

He turned to April, intending to awaken and question her about her visitors, then halted, reconsidering it. She had been nearly incoherent with sleep when Jack tried to talk to her; it wasn't likely she would be more alert now. _And if she_ _is_ _more awake, she'll bite my head off!_ he thought, grinning a little. _So let's let her sleep for now, and get hold of Joe and Jack – they need to know about this!_

Frank picked up the room's telephone receiver and dialed Joe's cell phone number. He wasn't afraid of waking April, but he kept his voice quiet, all the same.

"Joe? Bad news, bro…they were here, ahead of us….I just found a piece of a cigar in April's room; do you suppose they got any information from her? You can bet they tried asking her where the stuff was…see if you can get any ideas from Jack about what she might have told them….Yeah, you bet I'll be watchful, now. And you watch yourself too…okay, bye."

In the van, Joe spared a quick glance from the road to look at Jack. "Frank found a piece of a cigar in April's room, Jack. Those hoods were there. Now, tell me – and this is important – if they woke her up and asked her where the stash was, what might April have told them?"

"I don't know!" Jack snapped. "How could she tell them anything? She didn't know anything! She didn't know the bricks were there; how could she tell anyone where they were hidden!"

Joe scowled. "Is it worth it, Jack? Is making a little extra money worth knowing you've endangered your little sister's life? I guess you can risk your own life if you want to – but you've put April in jeopardy too!"

"She put herself in danger when she took my flight!" Jack answered hotly. "I've done everything I can to keep her out of this – but she keeps barging in where she's not supposed to, and she wouldn't listen when I've tried to protect her!"

Joe held tight to his temper. "She wouldn't need protection if you hadn't gotten involved in this in the first place!" he growled, his teeth clenched so tightly that his jaw ached. "Did you think of that, Jack?" Suddenly, there was too much anger to hold in any longer, and Joe burst into furious speech again. "What in hell were you thinking? You worked with Dad so many times, on so many cases, flying him here and there. You know the score, Jack – how could you, of all people, turn to running drugs?"

From the corner of his eye, Joe saw Jack's hands clench into fists and his arm rise, and he braced himself for a sudden blow, hoping he could keep the van on the road if he was attacked. But after a few seconds, Jack exhaled a long breath, and lowered his hand.

"Joe, can't you admit that you don't always know everything?" Jack's deep voice was raw with tension. "There may be some things that not even the sons of Fenton Hardy can solve. Things you don't understand."

"So tell me," Joe said quietly. "Tell me, Jack – make me understand."

"I can't," Jack whispered. "Joe, just take me to wherever you hid the drugs. Help me that much, please? As soon as I give those guys what they want, April won't be in danger anymore…okay?"

"It's not okay, no…but I'll take you there," Joe replied. _What has happened to Jack? Oh Lord, what should I do? Turn him in to the police? I can't just shut my eyes to this…but how can I turn in a friend like Jack – and ruin April's life?_

#####

Joe and Jack reached the crash site nearly two hours later. Their walk had been a silent one, for the most part, each young man busy with his own thoughts. As they neared the little pond where April had attempted to set the plane down on the water, Jack stared around at the trees, noting the snapped-off limbs with horror. _She could have been killed…._ He stopped beside the plane, staring at the crumpled mass of metal. Joe paused, then shrugged and went into the trees; Jack didn't need to see where they'd hidden the cocaine, he merely wanted to retrieve it.

Jack took a few steps into the plane's interior, then retreated again. His dark eyes were filled with pain. _I was supposed to be on this flight…not April! She came so close to dying, right here…oh baby sister, what have I done to you? What have I done to_ _us_ _?_

Joe's return roused him from his despairing thoughts. The younger Hardy's jaw was tight with anger, and he tossed the packages at Jack's feet with scorn.

"There it is, Jack! Your precious cargo! Tell me, was it worth it? Was it worth risking April's life?"

Jack Wayne closed his eyes to keep Joe from seeing the tears that filled them.

#####

Frank had been reading magazines snitched from the waiting room for a couple of hours, when April stirred in her sleep. He glanced up, thinking that she might be going to awaken, but instead of opening her eyes, she began thrashing about, moaning and muttering, obviously in the grip of a nightmare.

"No…come on, work, you stupid thing! Mayday – Mayday….Jack – Jack?….I'm going down…Jack! Somebody, answer me – help me!" April nearly shrieked the last words, but still her eyes didn't open. She whimpered softly, trapped in her dream.

Frank bent over the bed and grasped her shoulders tightly. "April – April! Wake up! You're having a nightmare. You're okay, wake up!" He eased his grip, and began patting her, more gently. "Come on, kiddo, it's okay; take it easy."

For a few seconds she lay limply, gasping for breath. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared blankly upward. Frank wasn't sure she realized he was there, or if she did, if she knew who he was.

"April?" he whispered, "It's okay, it was just a dream. You're all right." Frank knew all too well what it was like to be tormented by nightmares; ever since January he'd had recurrent dreams in which Dan Sullivan, Megan, and Callie Shaw figured prominently. More than once he'd been awakened by an anxious Joe shaking him, trying to reassure him that all was well. "April?" he repeated.

"The plane…" she whimpered, "the trees – "

"It's all right; it's over. Don't think about it," Frank tried to comfort her. "Just relax and go back to sleep." He still doubted that she was aware of who he was, but it made no difference; the only thing that mattered right now was that she stop re-living the plane crash.

April nodded slightly and obediently closed her eyes; she was asleep in less than two minutes. Frank settled back into his chair, intending to keep a more watchful eye on her from then on.

About four o'clock in the afternoon, April stirred again. Frank waited; after a few moments, she turned her head and yawned, then blinked her eyes open.

"Hey, sleepyhead!" Frank leaned into her line of vision, smiling.

"Frank? What are you doing here?" She yawned again. "Or am I dreaming again?"

"Nope, not dreaming; I'm real." He tapped her nose lightly. "See? Did you dream I was here?" He was hesitant to ask what she had dreamed; he didn't want to remind her of her nightmare.

"No, not you." April shivered, then tried to marshal her thoughts. "I dreamed about the crash, but before that….It was somebody else…not Jack, or Joe, either. It was so weird…I think I dreamed about Danny DeVito, Frank, isn't that strange?"

 _Danny DeVito – omigosh, she means that – she_ _did_ _wake up when they were here!_

"Dreaming about Danny DeVito is definitely strange," Frank conceded. "what did you and Danny do, in your dream?"

"He wanted something…he wanted the groceries." She stopped and blinked, considering what she had just said. "Now that's just plain stupid! Why would anyone want my groceries?"

Frank had to laugh. "I can't imagine," he said. _Groceries? They asked her about groceries? This doesn't add up!_ "What did you say to him?"

"I told him—" she yawned again, widely. "I told him they were in the trunk of my car. But I never get Coke anyway; I buy Pepsi."

Frank closed his eyes a moment. _Coke! They asked her about coke – and she told them it was in her car…. If they believed her…._

#####

Joe turned the van into the parking lot of the cargo companies' airfield. He drove around to the back door of the building, and stopped, putting the vehicle in Park and setting the emergency brake.

"There. Delivered, all safe and sound." Joe's voice was cold. He didn't look over at the man seated next to him. Jack reached behind his seat and retrieved the two bricks of cocaine, and opened the door.

"Thanks, Joe. This is important; you've got to understand…"

"Just get out, Jack. Take your damn stash and get out." Joe released the brake and put the van into gear. Jack quickly got out, slamming the door just in time, as Joe began moving across the parking lot toward the exit.

Driving past the other cars parked in the lot, Joe's attention was caught by the sight of a shabby Land Cruiser; somehow, it looked familiar, but he didn't recall exactly when or where he'd seen it before. He was nearly to the exit when he noticed two men standing by a dark green Neon. They were pulling and jiggling at the little car's trunk, apparently unable to get it open. Automatically slowing, and watching in his rear-view mirror, Joe saw one of the men pick up a crowbar and start to pry at the trunk's edge.

 _Hey, what's going on? They're going to scratch the paint something awful with that…_ _wait a minute_ _!_ Joe slammed on the brakes and twisted in his seat, squinting at the scene. _That's the two that were here this morning; the ones that beat up Jack!_ He shoved the gearshift into Reverse and gunned the motor, heading back toward the little Neon. _The ones Frank and I saw at the crash site!_


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Thank you to the kind readers who have left reviews and comments. You're the best!

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 7

April gazed at Frank, her hazel eyes slowly becoming more wide awake. "Frank, why are you here?" she asked. "I mean – I like having you here; don't get me wrong. But why are you staying here with me?"

"Thought you might like the company?" Frank hazarded an answer. He didn't wish to alarm her by mentioning her mysterious visitors.

"Where's Jack? I remember him leaving, earlier – hey, where's Joe?" She frowned. "I almost remember something…or did I dream that too? Did Jack come in and wake me up?"

"Yes – well, he tried to wake you, April." Frank chuckled softly. "You told him to go away and let you sleep!"

"But why would he have wanted me to wake up? And I don't believe you stayed here all day just because you enjoy reading old magazines and watching me sleep, Frank Hardy!" April reached for the controls on the bed and touched a button, elevating the head of the bed until she was sitting nearly upright. "Quit hedging. Where's Jack, where's Joe, and what is it that you aren't telling me?"

Frank stood up and walked toward the window, giving himself time to frame a reply. Finally he felt he had an adequate response, and turned back to face April.

"Joe took Jack to the crash site. Jack wanted to see it for himself, but he didn't want you left alone all that time, so I offered to stay here with you."

"You're lying," April said calmly, although tears stood in her eyes. "Jack wouldn't care two cents' worth if I was here alone. He thinks I'm not a capable pilot, remember? I crashed his precious plane! He went to see it so he can find something to prove his point, didn't he? Something that will show I was at fault!" The tears threatened to spill over, and she blinked furiously.

 _Oh no,_ _that_ _wasn't where this was supposed to go!_ "April, that's not true. Jack loves you; he cares about you a great deal, you know that." Frank handed April a tissue and smiled reassuringly at the girl…but the smile that curved his lips upward didn't reach his eyes. _Jack loves you, April…but right now he cares more about two packages of cocaine than the feelings of his little sister._

#####

Joe pulled the van to a halt near the Neon and got out. He walked slowly toward the two men, who had ceased their efforts to pry open the trunk, and were watching him warily.

"Having trouble?" Joe inquired, his voice deceptively mild.

"Yeah," It was the short, plump man who replied, shifting his cigar as he spoke. "Locked the keys in the trunk." He narrowed his eyes at Joe, trying to place him. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"We met, briefly, yesterday." Joe smiled sweetly, blue eyes wide. "You said you were FAA investigators."

"The kids at the crash site!" The bigger man hissed the words. "What're you doing here?"

Joe spread his hands, feigning innocence. "Just happened to be in the neighborhood."

"Ah, go on and get outta here, kid! This is none of your affair. Ernie, let's get this thing open!" As the muscular man bent to apply the crowbar to the trunk lid once more, Joe's mouth tightened. Still simmering with fury at Jack Wayne's defection to criminal activities, Joe was in no mood to be cautious, and now he did something reckless in the extreme.

"Ernie, huh?" he drawled. "Well, if he's Ernie, that must mean your name is Bert, right?" He laughed shortly. "You're a long way from Sesame Street!"

"Why you little punk!" The big man turned scarlet with fury. "I'll have you know the name's Deke, not Bert!" His hand tightened on the crowbar. "You've got some nerve!"

"Wait a minute, Deke." Ernie caught his associate's arm. He stared hard at Joe, who stared defiantly back. "Maybe you aren't just a kid in the wrong place at the wrong time…maybe you know more than we thought." He stepped forward, and with a speed that belied his size and girth, seized Joe's arm in an iron grip. "Just what did you and that other guy see at the crash, kid? What did you see…or more important, what did you take?"

Joe twisted his arm, attempting to pull free, but Ernie had a solid grasp on him, and despite Joe's height advantage, the man didn't let go. Instead, he added impetus to the twist, rotating the boy's arm until Joe was forced to dip his shoulder to relieve the pressure. Ernie grabbed Joe's arm with his other hand and yanked it behind his back, then pulled sharply upward. Joe gasped in pain and struggled to get free, but the element of surprise gave Ernie an advantage. He slammed Joe against the side of the car, hard.

"Talk!" he growled. Joe, momentarily dazed by the force of the blow, shook his head to clear it; unfortunately, Ernie and Deke took this as a refusal to obey.

"Tough guy, huh?" Deke set down his crowbar, grabbed Joe's shoulder and whirled him about so that his back was against the Neon. "Hold onto him, Ernie." Without further preamble, Deke slammed his fist into Joe's midsection, then immediately followed that blow with a second. Joe groaned and doubled over, but Ernie yanked him upright once more.

"Better talk, kid. Deke's not real patient," he advised.

"No – way!" Joe gasped, then cried out as Deke punched him a third time in the stomach. Blindly, he kicked out at his assailant's legs, but missed, and felt himself slammed against the little Neon once more. His head snapped back and struck the car with considerable force. Pain radiated through his skull, and his vision went dark.

 _Don't…pass out, Hardy! Stay…conscious!_ Joe fought the darkness, feeling more blows hitting his body but unable to do anything to defend himself. Suddenly, however, he was released and thrown violently to the asphalt. Joe lay stunned, curled around his aching stomach and gasping for breath. Above him, Deke raised the crowbar, preparing to strike.

"Deke! Leave him alone!" Jack Wayne was shouting as he ran across the parking lot. "What do you think you're doing, you blamed idiot?"

"Who is he, Wayne? What's he doing around here, anyway?" Deke demanded. "We saw him and another guy at the crash site in the woods yesterday, and now he's nosing around here!" He lowered the crowbar, but kicked Joe in the side, hard enough to make the boy cry out again.

"He called Deke 'Bert,'" Ernie explained his partner's rage. "You know, like Bert and Ernie on that kid show. Deke didn't like that."

"Well you can't go around beating up people just because you don't like their jokes," Jack said. "He's just a punk kid; he doesn't know anything." He took Deke's arm and pulled him away from Joe. "Besides, I have what you're looking for in my office….Come on, leave him be."

"I thought you didn't know where the stuff was, Wayne!" Deke growled. "Earlier today you said you didn't have it."

"I – okay, I admit it; I was trying to pull a fast one." Jack spoke rapidly, still urging the two men toward his office. "I changed my mind. I don't want any trouble, okay? No trouble with you – for me or for my sister."

Joe lay sprawled on the pavement, attempting to recover. Although he had been unable to speak, his hearing had been unimpaired, and he had heard Jack's words very clearly. _He's giving them the cocaine! Damn him, how can he_ _do_ _this?_ Very cautiously, Joe tried to sit up, but the pain coursing through his body made him slump down once more. He heard returning footsteps and voices, and forced himself to lie still, listening.

"We're square now, right?" Jack was asking. "You've got what you wanted, and you'll leave me and my sister alone?"

"Yeah," Ernie grunted. "You made it harder on yourself, Wayne, by trying to double-cross us. We'll remember that in the future."

"There isn't going to be any 'future'," Jack said coldly. "I did what you wanted and now I'm done."

There was no reply. Joe heard car doors open, slam shut, and an engine start; then the sound of a vehicle driving away. Then footsteps approached, and Jack was kneeling beside him.

"Joe? How badly are you hurt?" Jack put a hand on his shoulder and gently attempted to turn Joe onto his back.

"Leave me alone," Joe groaned. He was aching and furious; furious because Jack had turned over the drugs; furious that he had let Ernie get the drop on him; furious because Jack had been the one to save him from the beating being administered by Deke. "You slimeball, how could you do it? How could you have just given – Ahhh!" He gasped in pain as he pushed himself to a sitting position, trying to shrug off Jack's hand.

"I gave them what they wanted to stop them from hurting you," Jack snapped. "Maybe you would rather I'd just let them beat you to a pulp? Would that have been better?"

"Yes." Joe gritted his teeth against a fresh wave of pain. "Yes, it would have been better. Now just go away, Jack. Go count your money, or something."

Jack didn't respond in words. He simply stood, then put his hands beneath Joe's arms and heaved the boy to his feet. He supported him until Joe was able to stand on his own, then walked him to the van and waited while Joe climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Did you hear what I told them, Joe?" he said finally, over the sound of the motor. "I told them that it was over. This is the end of it." Jack turned and walked away, back toward his office.

Joe stared after him. "Yeah, Jack?" he murmured. "What about the next time?"


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews; you're greatly appreciated!

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver

Chapter 8

By the time Frank Hardy reached his Elm Street home, he was irritated, annoyed, and rapidly working his way up to a major snit. His usually laid-back personality was being overwhelmed by ire directed at his younger brother.

Frank stomped into the house and shut the door behind him with unusual firmness. "Joe? Joe?" He knew Joe was home; the van was parked in its usual space in the driveway. _We have_ _got_ _to get another car!_ " Joe!"

"In here," Joe responded from the family room. Frank strode into the room, scowling, and began his tirade before he crossed the threshold.

"What was the idea of leaving me stranded at the hospital with no wheels? Didn't you remember that you happened to have the van, and I was stuck there?"

Joe, who was lying curled up on the couch, raised his head, a guilty expression suffusing his face. "Oh no, I'm sorry – I forgot—"

"You forgot. You forgot?" Frank rolled his eyes in exasperation, and his voice elevated a notch. "I had to take a cab home! I tried calling, but there wasn't any answer…any explanation for that?"

Joe flushed. "I – turned the phone off," he mumbled.

"Oh. Fine. You turned the phone off. What's gotten into you?" Frank shouted. "Jack arrives and tells me he'll stay with April, so I leave, thinking you must be in the parking lot, waiting. I waited – and looked – for half an hour, Joe! I tried calling both the house and your cell phone. Finally, I called a cab. I get home – and here you are, taking a nap, all cuddled down for the night!"

"All right, I said I was sorry! What do you want, a written apology? Want me to grovel on the floor, abasing myself?" Joe yelled in return. Unwisely, he jerked himself upright on the couch to continue the argument, and immediately doubled over, wincing and holding his stomach. "Ouch…."

Frank halted his irate response in mid-sentence, the anger draining from his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm okay." Joe waved his hand dismissively, but the expression on his face belied his words.

"Don't give me that, what happened?" Frank bent over his younger brother. "Where and how did you get hurt? And how bad is it, and have you been checked by a doctor? Lie down," he added, gently pushing Joe flat.

Joe forced a laugh. "Which question should I answer first?"

"Joe, quit stalling. What happened?"

"I had a – um – run-in, I guess you'd call it – with our friends from the forest, Ernie and his sidekick, Bert…no, that's wrong, it's Deke." Joe related the details of the encounter, while Frank lifted his brother's shirt and examined his bruises, wincing in sympathy.

"You idiot, when are you going to learn to keep your mouth shut?" Frank murmured, when Joe reached his conclusion. "Those guys could've killed you with that crowbar, if Jack hadn't intervened. I wonder why he didn't tell me you'd been hurt, though."

"Oh yeah, thanks to Jack!" Joe said bitterly. "You realize what Jack did, don't you? He gave those guys the coke, Frank!" He started to sit up again, but Frank restrained him.

"He saved your life, little brother; just calm down a minute. And stay put; I don't think anything's broken, but you're going to be sore for a couple of days. So just take it easy for a little while. Of course I realize what Jack did, but there's nothing we can do about it now." Although the elder Hardy's voice was calm, his eyes were grief-stricken; he had cherished the hope that this was all somehow a terrible mistake, and Jack Wayne was innocent of wrong-doing. That hope had now been dashed on the rock of concrete reality; there was no denying what Jack had done.

Joe stared at his older brother forlornly. "Why did he do it, Frank?" he whispered. Frank shrugged, and looked at the floor. He had no answer to give.

After a moment or two, Frank sighed and raised his head. "It's past dinner time," he reminded Joe. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"No – I'm not hungry," Joe answered dully.

"If you aren't hungry, you're hurt worse than I thought," Frank teased gently. "We haven't had anything to eat since breakfast – unless you and Jack stopped somewhere on the way to North Woods – and it's past seven o'clock. Maybe if we eat something we'll feel a little better.

"I'm not hungry," Joe repeated.

Frank sighed. "Well, I am." He got to his feet. "I think there's pizza in the freezer…." He walked toward the kitchen, leaving Joe alone with his bruises…and his disillusionment.

By the time the pizza was baked, the enticing aroma had worked its magic on the younger Hardy, and he appeared in the kitchen with a somewhat sheepish expression on his face just as Frank removed a pan from the oven.

"I changed my mind," Joe mumbled. "Is there enough for me too?"

His brother grinned at him. "Plenty," he replied. "I figured you'd come around, so I did two." He reached into the oven again and took out another pan. "Sit down and dig in."

Just as the boys were finishing, they heard the garage door lifting, and the sound of a car entering. "Dad must be home!" Frank exclaimed. "I thought he was going to be gone all week."

A few moments later, their father entered the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. "Did you leave any for me?" he inquired with a smile..

"There's a couple of pieces, Dad." Frank hastily set another plate on the table. "We're just finished."

Fenton sat down and ate hungrily, telling of his activities in the nation's capital as he did so. When the pizza was gone and the plates and glasses cleared away, he glanced quizzically from one son to the other.

"I thought you two were spending the week camping in the North Woods," he commented. "I'm surprised to see you at home. Get rained out?"

"No, we didn't get rained out." Frank looked at Joe, who shrugged. _Why not?_ his expression said. "Listen, Dad, we've got sort of a problem…."

As Frank related their experiences of the past two days, Fenton listened gravely. Occasionally he nodded, once or twice he asked a question When Frank concluded his narrative, Fenton sat silent for a moment or two, deep in thought.

"It sounds as if you've had a tough couple of days," he said finally.

"Dad, how could Jack do this?" Joe burst out. "He was always right on the straight and narrow when he was flying for you – how could this happen?"

"Joe, we've known Jack for a long time," his father replied slowly. "And I want to remind you that sometimes things aren't always as they seem. Do you really find it that easy to believe that he could change so much in such a short time?"

Joe stared miserably down at the table and shrugged.

"Maybe there's more going on in this situation than Jack can tell you," Fenton continued. "I think perhaps you need to reserve judgment for a bit – until you know the whole story."

"You don't think we know the whole story?" Frank asked quickly. "Why do you say that, Dad? What do you think we've missed?"

"Whoa now," Fenton raised a hand, forestalling Frank's impatience. "I didn't say you'd missed anything at all; I just said to be sure you know the whole story before you condemn Jack completely."

Joe shook his head stubbornly. "I know enough," he muttered. "I saw – well, heard anyway – Jack give those guys the kilos of coke, Dad."

"I realize it looks very bad for Jack," his father replied. "I understand how disappointed you two are in him."

Before they could continue the conversation, they heard the front door open, and Laura's voice called out: "Frank? Joe? Anyone here?"

"Mom!" Frank leaped to his feet and hurried toward the front hall. "What are you doing home?" he asked, hugging his petite, blonde mother fondly. "I thought you were staying in New York until Friday."

"We got all shopped out," she answered. "And the girls decided they wanted to spend a few days at home after all. But they thought you boys would still be camping…Fenton! You're here too?"

Mr. Hardy chuckled as he hugged and kissed his wife. "A regular family reunion. Wrapped up my business in D.C. a lot faster than I thought I would. Welcome home, honey."

Joe took his turn hugging his mother. "You said Vanessa's home?" he asked. At his mother's affirmative nod, he grinned. "Super. Gonna go call her right now!" He headed up the stairs for his room.

"Use your cell phone," Frank yelled after him, "I want to call Megan!"

"You use your cell!" the answer floated down. "I'm already dialing…hey, Vanessa!"

Frank sighed, rolled his eyes, and went to retrieve his cell phone from his coat pocket.

#####

Joe was sore and achy the next morning, but managed to drag himself out of bed and downstairs by ten o'clock. Frank, muttering an embarrassed "Girlfriend deprivation syndrome," to Laura, had departed much earlier, heading over to Megan's house.

"Did Dad tell you about the plane crash Jack Wayne's sister was in?" Joe asked Laura as she handed him a plate of poached eggs on toast.

"Yes, it sounded terrible. I'm so glad she wasn't injured too badly," Laura replied. "Is she getting out of the hospital soon?"

"Today, probably." Joe chewed a bite of toast thoughtfully. "I wonder if she can manage okay, once she's home. It was her right arm that was broken, and I'm sure she's right-handed."

"That will be difficult," his mother agreed. "I hope they call us if she needs help. Maybe she'd like to stay here a few days."

 _Jack's about as likely to call us for help as he is to snap his fingers and mend his plane by magic!_ Joe thought. _We're the_ _last_ _ones he'd call!_

#####

Jack Wayne escorted his little sister up the sidewalk to their house as if she'd been made of glass. Limping on her injured leg, right arm in cast and sling, but the bandage on her head replaced with an adhesive patch, April looked only slightly worse for wear. She was pale, however, and her hazel eyes looked weary and unhappy.

"Do you want to go lie down, sis?" Jack asked, his tone full of concern. "The doctor said you need to rest."

"Jack, I just got out of bed!" she answered patiently. "Let me at least stay up for a little while, huh? I'm not going to disintegrate into pieces – I have a broken arm, that's all!"

"A broken arm, bruised ribs, a gash on your leg – "

"Stitched up, Jack; healing, remember?" April had to laugh. "I'm all right, I'm all right."

"Okay…." But Jack still looked worried. "But only for a little while. I'll have to go back to the airstrip this afternoon. Maybe you could take a nap then."

"I could go with you," April suggested, but when Jack shook his head, her lips tightened into a grim line. "Or am I not going to be allowed there, since I downed the plane, and you don't think I'm qualified to pilot for Wayne's World anymore?"

"April, for Pete's sake, I never said you weren't qualified to fly for me! Stop putting words in my mouth!" Jack snarled. "You're a damn good pilot and you know it and I know it. The only thing I said was that if I'd been flying that trip—"

"—the crash wouldn't have happened. I know what you said, Jack; I've been hearing it in my head for quite some time now!" April limped to a chair and sat down with a relieved sigh. "All right, let's not argue about it. Go ahead and go to the airstrip if you want to; I'll be just fine."

"I don't need to go just yet," her brother replied. "I was going to fix us some lunch first. You can't manage that, with your arm."

"I'm not hungry," she retorted. "Fix something for yourself if you like."

Jack drew in a breath, about to fire a return shot, but clamped his lips together, turned and exited the room, his silence more telling than any words might have been. April stared after him, feeling guilty over the quarrel, her eyes wells of sadness.

She glanced down at herself. She felt disheveled and mussed, for even with the nurses' help, getting dressed had been difficult at the hospital. Jack had brought her clothes to wear home; her jeans had been unusable since Joe had slit the right leg completely open, but she was wearing the same jacket she had had on in the crash. It was stained here and there with spots of blood. April shivered in distaste at the memories it evoked.

Rapid footsteps brought April out of her reverie; Jack came striding in from the kitchen. His dark eyes were wide and startled-looking.

"April, why don't you go upstairs and rest for a little while? I really think you should." Jack had her by her uninjured arm, and was lifting her from the chair and propelling her toward the stairs even as he spoke.

"Wha – Jack, what's the deal? I said I didn't need to rest—"

"Please, sis!" He half-pushed her up the steps. "Please, just go into your room…and stay there, okay? Stay until I come get you." As he urged her into her room, the front doorbell pealed. Jack gave April one last shove and a desperate glance, then turned and hurried down the stairs as the bell rang again. April closed the door almost all the way, but left a crack open, just enough to see through. She heard the front door open, then Jack's voice again.

"What are you doing here? You said you'd leave us alone – _awwk_!" He broke off, making a choking noise. April opened the door a little further and popped her head out, peering over the banisters. To her horror, she saw a large man with his hands tightly around her brother's neck.

"You dirty double-crossing slimeball!" A deep voice snarled the words. April stood frozen, her heart pounding with fright. "You did it again – we tried to be nice, more than once; we gave you a second chance – and you turned around and reneged again! Where's the stuff? And you'd better not lie this time!"

"I gave it to you!" Jack gasped. "You took it with you yesterday!"

"Liar! You substituted. Where's the real stuff, Wayne?"

"You took it, I swear – _acckkk_." Again Jack choked, and April shivered as she listened.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs; more than one person. April shrank back from the door, but still glimpsed Jack and the intruders. _The men from my dream, in the hospital! They were real!_ She watched, horrified, as the two men dragged Jack between them toward the bathroom. In a moment, she heard the sound of water running into the bathtub.

"What're – Deke, Ernie, I swear I'm telling the truth – what're you doing?"

"We're going to make sure this time, you lying punk!" Ernie snapped. "Put more in, Deke, that's not deep enough yet."

"I did tell you the truth – I gave you the stuff from the plane."

"Dunk him," April heard Ernie command.

"I've told you! I gave you the…" Jack's voice turned into a gurgle.

April gasped, realizing what was happening. _They're holding him underwater…they're going to drown him!_ She pulled the door open a little further, but halted when she heard voices coming from the bathroom again.

"Now you going to tell us what you did with it? Or would you like another refreshing little dip?"

Jack coughed and spluttered, choking up water. "I – I told you – I gave you – gave you…"

"Ahhh, dunk him again." Jack's yell of protest was cut off once more as his head was forced beneath the water's surface. Seconds ticked by.

This time April couldn't stand it. She opened the door and limped into the hall. "Stop it, stop it!" she screamed. "Stop it!"

Ernie and Deke burst from the bathroom, dragging a gasping, gagging Jack Wayne between them. Water streamed from his dark hair, soaking his shirt. "Where'd she come from?" Deke demanded. "That's the little kid from the hospital, isn't it?"

"If you – hurt her – I swear, I'll – kill you!" Jack tried to shout the words, but nearly strangled on the water he had swallowed.

"Deke, lock her in a closet, or something," Ernie snapped. "She can't have done anything with the stuff; she was in the hospital."

Screaming and struggling, April found herself being pushed back into her bedroom, where Deke shoved her into her clothes closet and slammed the door. Knocked off balance by the force of the push, April sat helpless on the floor and heard something – a chair? – being wedged against the door, effectively preventing her escape.

"You leave my brother alone!" she screamed. "Leave him alone!" Her only answer was the sound of receding footsteps, and then she heard her bedroom door close. "Jack! Jack!"

 _They're going to kill him! They're going to kill Jack!_ Terrified beyond any terror she had ever before experienced, April buried her face in the soft folds of the robe hanging in her closet and sobbed hysterically.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews; you're greatly appreciated! I know it's difficult trying to follow a story when the updates don't get announced.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 9

April's terrified sobs lasted only a few minutes. Although tears streamed steadily down her cheeks, she managed to catch her breath, and tried to think what to do. _How can I help Jack?_ She struggled awkwardly to her feet, and attempted to open the closet door, but it seemed solidly wedged shut. Frustrated, she slapped at the surrounding clothing…and felt her hand hit something hard.

 _Ouch! What the…?_ April shook her stinging hand, then reached out again, trying to ascertain what she had struck. The closet's interior was almost completely dark; only the smallest crack of light came in from around the door. _Where was it…? Something in a pocket? Ahhhh…my suede jacket! My cell phone!_

With trembling fingers, she pulled the tiny phone from the pocket and felt over the buttons. _This is so hard with my left hand…where's the power button?_ Finally she managed to push the right one, and a comforting soft glow lit up the little screen. April started to punch in 911…and then hesitated.

 _If Jack's done something wrong – gotten mixed up in something illegal, like I suspect – I can't call the police. He might get into even more trouble…. But those men will kill him, if I don't get some help here!_ Holding the little instrument in her left hand, she managed to press three digits with the fingers of her right, and after a moment was rewarded with a response.

" _Directory Assistance, what city please?"_

"Bayport, New York."

" _And the name?"_

"Hardy – Fenton Hardy."

When she was switched to a recording for the number, April repeated it several times, committing it to memory. She squeezed her eyes shut as loud voices penetrated her prison; Ernie and Deke yelling at Jack, apparently. _That means they haven't killed him yet, at least!_ She opened her eyes again and dialed as swiftly as she could.

At the Hardys, Frank had arrived home with Megan in tow, holding her hand tightly clasped in his own as they entered the house. Joe turned from where he was standing by the window and smiled affectionately at the little redhead.

"Hi Megan, did you have fun in New York?"

"Loads!" she answered enthusiastically. "Beautiful clothes…we shopped and shopped, for hours – but we didn't actually buy much!" She walked over to give Joe a hug, and didn't miss his wince as her arms went about him. "What happened to you now?"

"Just an encounter with a couple of unpleasant people," he replied. "Don't tell Vanessa, huh?" He hugged her gingerly.

Megan eyed him skeptically. "Will you tell her, if I don't?" She looked up at Frank. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Maybe," he hedged, "maybe later."

"Hey, there's Vanessa now!" Joe exclaimed, looking out the window again. "She didn't say anything about coming over!" He started toward the front door, but the telephone rang, and he automatically swerved to answer it.

"Hardy residence….yeah, this is Joe…Who? Slow down…April? What's wrong….? What?….okay, what's your address?….got it; we're on our way."

Joe slammed down the phone and headed again for the front door, yelling "Come on!" at his mystified older brother.

"Joe, what in the world…?" Frank called after him.

"April says there are two guys at her house, trying to drown Jack in the bathtub!" Joe shouted as he grabbed his jacket from the closet. "Come on, Frank!"

Frank gave Megan a hasty kiss and an apologetic smile, and started after Joe. As the younger Hardy yanked open the front door, he nearly catapulted into a surprised Vanessa, who was just preparing to ring the doorbell.

"Joe!" she gasped.

"Hi Van, sorry, I've gotta go! I'll see you later!" Joe dashed past her and ran toward the van, closely followed by Frank. Joe had the engine running and was shifting into reverse as Frank flung himself into the passenger seat.

Vanessa stared after the departing vehicle. " 'Hi Van, bye Van,'" she mimicked. "Hey, don't I even get a kiss, you louse?" she shouted, then plopped herself down on the front steps, her chin in her hands.

"Oh Vanessa." Megan sat down beside her and put a comforting arm about the disconsolate younger girl. "They got a phone call – you know how it is."

"You get accustomed to it eventually." A new voice sounded above their heads; Laura Hardy stood in the doorway. "But you never get entirely used to it." She beckoned to the girls. "Come on in, you two. We can console ourselves with cookies and hot chocolate…topped with whipped cream and marshmallows!" As Megan and Vanessa filed past, Laura hugged each of them. "The boys will be back soon – I hope."

When Frank and Joe pulled up in front of the Waynes' small brick house, they saw no Land Cruiser anywhere near…but they noticed that the front door stood slightly ajar. The boys got out of the van and hastened up the walk, then slipped through the open door cautiously. They paused in the front hallway, listening intently, but heard nothing.

"April said they were in the bathroom," Joe breathed, close to Frank's ear. "Probably upstairs…." They moved quietly up the steps, their feet making no noise on the carpeting. When they reached the upper floor, they looked around – and then both Joe and Frank were running toward the far end of the hall, where they could see long, blue-jeans-clad legs on the floor, extending into the hallway.

"Jack!" Frank knelt beside the young pilot and laid his hand against the side of Jack's throat. "Whew, there's a pulse – thank goodness…."

"He's breathing – sort of," Joe murmured, bending over their friend's sprawled form. "Do you think he'll be okay, Frank?"

"I don't know…." Frank watched Jack's chest rise and fall. "I'll stay with him; you find April."

"Oh jeez, April!" Joe turned to the other doors opening off the hallway. "She said those creeps locked her in a closet!" He began yanking doors open, one after another. "Aha!" Seconds later, Joe jerked the chair from beneath the doorknob and opened the closet door. April nearly fell into his arms.

"Oh, Joe, thank God you came!" She leaned against him, burying her tear-streaked face in his jacket. "Did they – is Jack—"

"Jack's okay; he's unconscious, but he's breathing." Joe patted her back reassuringly. "Come on and see for yourself." He put his arm about her to aid her limping steps. "You did great, April…but why didn't you call the police, instead of us?"

"I was afraid to, Joe," she whispered miserably. "If Jack's involved with those men in something…I was afraid to have the police here!"

Joe grimaced, realizing the truth of her words. _She's going to have to face it some time, though,_ a little voice in his head reminded him.

The sounds of harsh coughing and Frank's murmurs of encouragement greeted April and Joe as they moved into the hallway. Jack was sitting up now, leaning against Frank's arm. His face, which had been pallid, was rapidly becoming flushed from the exertion.

"Jack!" April bent down and tried to hug him with her good arm. "Oh Jack, I was so scared for you! Why did those men come here and do this?"

Jack shook his head, indicating he could not yet speak, and continued to cough. Finally, he sagged against Frank's shoulder; the boy gently leaned him against the wall.

"Joe, get some towels; Jack's soaking wet, and he may get chilled." Frank stared searchingly at Jack. "Other than waterlogged, are you hurt, Jack?"

"N-no." Jack dragged in a deep breath and coughed some more. "Just – water… Thanks, Joe," he added, as Joe wrapped a bath towel about his shoulders and handed him another to dry his hair.

"Those guys are persistent," Joe muttered. "But why were they here?"

"I – don't know." Jack rubbed his hair, then ran the towel over his face. "I never thought I'd see them again, honestly."

"But who are they?" April demanded again. "Why did they come to my hospital room, and why did they come here and do this to you?"

"April, I—"

"Yeah, Jack." Joe broke in without considering his words too carefully. "I thought you said everything would be fine, now that they had their shipment of cocaine – uh…"

"Cocaine?!" April's voice elevated several notches. "This is about drugs? Jack, I can't believe you got mixed up in a drug deal! Don't you remember – drugs were what got Jesse killed, a few months ago! And now you're involved with it? What, you didn't think having Dad die last summer was hard enough on me; now you're going to get yourself killed too? Or sent to prison?" She stared at him, tears coursing down her face, her hazel eyes wide with shock.

"No!" Jack spat. "Of course I remember about Jesse…why else would I – oh, never mind!" He buried his face in the towel for a moment, then lifted it and gazed pleadingly at the Hardys. "Guys – April's not safe here anymore. Could I ask a really big favor? Do you suppose she could stay over at your place for a little while?"

"Hey, I'm not exactly the pet cat, that you can just send to the neighbors for pet-sitting!" April snapped, but her brother ignored her, and continued to stare from Frank to Joe and back again. "Jack, I am not going to impose on the Hardy family!" she insisted.

Joe spared her a quick glance, and grinned. "It's not an imposition, April. Mom mentioned just this morning that she wondered if you needed any help, while your arm is healing." Inside, however, his mind was racing. _I want to know that April's safe, true…but doing a favor for Jack, now? After what he's done? I don't_ _want_ _to do him any favors!_

Frank's thoughts were following a similar resentful path. _He's got some nerve, asking us to shelter April – but he_ _is_ _worried about her. And he's right; she isn't safe with him, or here alone. Dad said not to judge until we knew the whole story…hmm, maybe that's exactly what we need…._ Aloud, he said: "Okay, that's probably a good idea. April, suppose you pack some things – enough to see you through until Sunday, maybe, when vacation ends. Jack will come over with you to our house, and make sure you're settled okay. And then, Jack – you and I and Joe are going to have a nice, long, heart-to-heart talk." _And this time, you're not leaving out one single, solitary detail!_

#####

The four of them reached the Hardy home half an hour later, with April still protesting feebly that she didn't wish to impose. Jack had changed into dry clothes, and seemed to be recovering from his enforced immersions, but he remained very quiet. He had agreed to tell the boys everything, but he didn't look happy about it.

Laura, alerted by Frank's phone call to the prospect of having company, was waiting to welcome the Waynes. She showed April upstairs to the guest room, while Joe carried her suitcase. Vanessa and Megan hovered solicitously over the younger girl; when Laura and Joe went back down the stairs, April was already seated on the bed, having her hair plaited into a French braid by Megan, and Vanessa was busily unpacking the suitcase. April was wide-eyed with awe at the attention being given her by these two older girls.

"We're going to use Dad's study for a while, okay?" Frank asked his mother as she and Joe entered the family room where Frank and Jack were sitting.

"Frank, is your dad around?" Jack asked, then. "I'd like to have him join us."

 _He wants_ _Dad_ _in on this?_ Joe thought, and saw that Frank shared his surprise.

"He's already in the den," Laura told them. "Go on in."

Fenton looked up from his work when the three young men filed into the study. "Hello Jack. How is your sister doing? I'm glad you brought her over here; I'm afraid she'd have a hard time on her own for a few days." He looked from one to the other. "What can I do for you?"

"Dad, Jack has some things he wants to talk over with us…and he asked that you be in on it too," Frank said carefully. They sat down, and Jack stared down at his hands, clenched into fists in his lap, for a moment. Finally he looked up and began to speak; his deep voice steady.

"This whole thing started about four months ago. You heard April mention someone named Jesse? Jesse Robertson was a pilot that flew for Northeastern Flyways; it's another cargo-and-charter service that uses the same buildings and runways we do. We became really good friends, he and his wife and I; he was about the same age as I am.

"Well, those two pleasant guys you've met, Deke and Ernie, asked Jesse to take part in some drug-smuggling. He was offered quite a bit of money to take kilos of cocaine, add them to his cargo, let someone offload them along with the rest of the stuff, and turn a blind eye. It probably was a temptation, because Jesse and his wife had a baby, less than a year old, and they could have used the money…but he refused. He told me about it." Jack swallowed hard. "A week later, he was killed."

"How?" Frank asked intently.

Jack glanced surreptitiously at Joe. "There was a bomb rigged up in his car," he almost whispered. "When he started the motor, the car blew up. He died on the way to the hospital. The police hit nothing but dead ends, but I know who did it, all right."

 _Oh God…. Not a car bomb. No, not a car bomb…._ Joe shut his eyes, feeling a little ill; remembering Iola Morton's death. A wash of guilt swept him; he felt like a heel for not trusting Jack's integrity.

"I decided they weren't going to get away with it," Jack continued after a moment. "I wanted to make them pay for killing Jesse…but I didn't know how I was going to do it. And then, as luck would have it – they came to me, with the same offer." He looked over at Fenton, who smiled encouragingly at his former pilot. "I knew I couldn't do it on my own, though…so I came to see your dad. I asked him for his help in setting up a sting operation."

"Dad! You were in on this?" Joe exclaimed incredulously. Frank leaned close to his younger brother.

"See, Joe? I told you not to make snap judgments!" he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Joe glared at him, his blue eyes shooting daggers. _Like you didn't think exactly the same thing!_ he thought, but realized it would do no good to say it. His scowl deepened as he remembered the conversation where Frank had made the remark about snap judgments. _You turkey, you told me not to make a snap judgment about April, not Jack!_ He forced his attention back to Jack's narrative.

"This was the plan: I would make this one run for Deke and Ernie, and set them up to be caught. It was all supposed to be so simple…I would have to make an emergency landing somewhere along the route, due to plane trouble. At that point, a couple of DEA agents were to board the plane and travel with me the rest of the way. As soon as Deke and Ernie entered the plane to get their stash, they'd be arrested. Your dad helped me contact the people at the DEA." Jack sighed wearily. "It was supposed to be so simple," he repeated. "The destination was Washington D.C….and Fenton was going to be there for the arrest."

"That's why you went to D.C., Dad?" Joe exclaimed.

"Well, I had other business there too," his father replied. "But that was part of it."

"But April took your flight instead," Frank recalled now. "And unfortunately, something went wrong, and the plane crashed in the woods."

Jack winced. "I had to make it look real," he muttered. "I didn't dare let Deke or Ernie suspect anything. So just before I got tied up with that phone call, I loosened the oil line, knowing that would be a good reason for me to make an emergency landing. That way, if Deke and Ernie had anyone watching the flight, they'd see smoke coming from the plane, and not get suspicious."

The good feelings Joe had felt toward Jack Wayne instantly disappeared when he realized what Jack had just said. "You did what?" he gasped. "You tampered with the plane so it would crash? You – you—" His fury choked him.

Jack didn't even seem to notice the interruption. "I couldn't believe it when I heard April take off – I knew her plane wasn't loaded yet – and I saw she'd taken my plane! I tried to make her come back – I radioed her and told her to come back – but she wouldn't listen. She even turned off her radio. What was I to do?"

Joe stared at him, his mind returning to the North Woods. He remembered holding April close, trying to keep her warm, while she told him the same thing: _"He made me so mad – so I turned off the radio…and then went on with the flight."_ "There wasn't anything you could do," he agreed reluctantly.

"Joe, I'm not as bad as you think I am. If I was, after the way you were on my case when we went to the crash site, I would have let Deke hit you with that crowbar a few times before I stopped him. IF I stopped him," Jack reminded the younger Hardy, with a wry grin.

But Frank was leaning forward now, his dark eyes full of animosity. "Jack, you're a pilot. What kind of a pilot would sabotage his own plane? You had no way of knowing what would happen."

"Frank, nothing was going to happen. I knew the oil line was loose and I knew what I had to do to keep from crashing. I didn't expect anything to go wrong," Jack said defensively.

Frank glared at him. "But something did go wrong. April took your flight, and she didn't know about the fuel line. Jack, she could have died – and it would have been your fault!" _Like when the plane crashed that I was flying, and Callie was so badly hurt. Someone had tampered with that plane, too…._

Jack cast a look at Fenton. "I just can't win with your sons, can I?" he said ruefully. "Okay, Frank, I admit it was my fault. But remember, April wasn't supposed to be flying that plane, I was. I was risking my own life, but I had no intention of risking hers."

Frank settled back in his chair, still frowning, but no longer quite so irate. "Go on," he prodded.

"You know what happened yesterday," Jack resumed his story. "After Joe and I picked up the stash you two took out of the plane, he encountered Ernie and Deke—"

"Ernie and Bert!" Joe muttered resentfully. Fenton covered his mouth to hide a grin.

"—in the parking lot at the airfield. I'd intended to turn the coke in to the DEA, but when I saw what was happening, I knew I'd have to give it to them." He looked over at Joe, a straight, affectionate look. "I couldn't let Deke hit you with that crowbar, you know…even if you did get on me all the way to the North Woods."

"You gave the kilos to them," Fenton interposed now. "So why did they come back today, Jack?"

The young pilot shook his head in bewilderment. "I don't know, Fenton. They kept saying I'd switched it; that what I gave them was a fake. I think the only reason they didn't kill me was because I passed out…and they knew I couldn't tell them anything if I was dead, anyway. But I didn't switch anything! As far as I knew, they had the real stuff. I gave them what was taken out of the plane by Frank and Joe."

Joe caught his breath with a gasp. "That means that someone else switched it, Jack. Someone changed the contents of that compartment before April took off with the plane!"


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews; you're greatly appreciated!

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 10

Joe's words seemed to reverberate in Mr. Hardy's quiet study. Fenton and Frank exchanged glances, and Jack Wayne blinked in astonishment.

"Someone else?" he repeated. "Who else is there?"

"An unknown – the "X" factor," Fenton said quietly. "Someone who had access to the plane before takeoff. It could be someone who works for you, Jack, or someone who works for another of the charter services that use the same building, or another building nearby."

"But no one went into the plane after I put the coke in," Jack protested. "I would remember seeing someone, I'm sure."

"You were on the phone," Frank reminded him. "There was a span of time when you were in your office, and April hadn't yet decided to take your plane."

"I suppose it could have happened then," Jack admitted. "But – but who?"

"That's what we're going to find out!" Joe assured him briskly. "And I think I know just the way to do it!" He grinned over at Frank. "You are gonna love this, big brother!"

"Oh, I'll bet," Frank said dryly. "Okay, let's hear it."

"Jack, you admit you're going to need a substitute pilot for a little while, don't you? While April's not able to fly?" Jack nodded, and Joe continued, his blue eyes sparkling. "Well, Frank's a licensed pilot, and just yesterday he was saying how much he'd like to take one of your babies up. Why don't you have him take over April's flights for a few days? It's an undercover job that's tailor-made for him…he keeps an eye on the people, who work for you, and he also gets to fly!"

Frank couldn't restrain a grin of anticipation; he'd rarely heard Joe propose a plan he liked so much. "I think that would be great!" he exclaimed. Then his face fell. "But Joe, Jack is down to one plane, remember?"

Jack held up a forestalling hand. "But I was going to have to borrow or lease a plane to replace it," he said. "I can't make do with only one plane. The insurance company will provide the money to lease one while the claims are processed and a new one purchased. I would have had to hire another pilot to take April's place; Joe's right about that. It might as well be you, Frank, if you'd like to do it." He thought for a moment. "I think I'll talk to Linda – that's Jesse's widow. She might be willing to let me rent Jesse's plane…and she could use the money." He tilted an inquiring eyebrow in Frank's direction. "Want to do it, Frank?"

"Do I? Try and stop me!" Frank exulted. "This is great, Jack!" He exchanged a triumphant high-five with Joe

"There's another part of it, remember." Fenton cleared his throat significantly. "Deke and Ernie – I'll never be able to think of those two names separately again, I'm afraid! – still think Jack swindled them out of their cocaine. He's still in danger – and April's still in danger, too."

The boys sobered. "I can keep an eye on Jack, when I'm at the hangar," Frank offered.

"And April has just acquired a full-time bodyguard," Joe chimed in. "I won't let anything happen to her, Jack," he assured her anxious-eyed brother.

"I know you'll do your best, Joe," Jack replied…but the anxiety didn't leave his eyes.

#####

Late that night, after Megan and Vanessa had departed for their respective homes, and Jack had bid his little sister goodnight and gone back to their house alone, Joe Hardy lay awake, thinking over the events of the day. He felt as if his emotions had been on a Ferris wheel, with the rapid changes in his opinion of Jack Wayne; but he was finally content, secure in the knowledge that Jack had not let them down, after all.

Joe smiled to himself, remembering April's slow descent of the stairs when she came down for dinner, with Vanessa and Megan in attendance. The older girls had fixed her hair, and helped her change her clothes, and her hazel eyes were sparkling with shy delight. Although he was still a bit disconcerted that April's gaze seemed to follow him a great deal of the time, Joe was happy to see her looking so much improved. Laura had fixed a casserole for dinner that didn't require any cutting, and April had managed to eat with her left hand, albeit slowly.

 _Cute kid…_ he mused. He yawned and turned on his side, preparing to let himself slide into sleep – and stopped, hearing what sounded like a soft whimper. He lifted his head from the pillow and listened. _Frank having one of those nightmares?_ But it wasn't Frank; Joe could hear his brother's soft snores through the open doors of the bathroom which connected their bedrooms. _Maybe I imagined it…No, there it is again._

Realizing where the sound was coming from, Joe slipped from his bed and quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that were tossed over a chair. He went into the hall and tapped lightly on the door to the guest room.

"April?" he whispered, not wanting to wake either Frank or his parents. "April, it's Joe. Are you okay?"

Another sob reached his ears. Joe put his hand on the doorknob.

"April, is it okay if I come in?"

"Y-yes," came the soft answer. Joe opened the door and went in, a little surprised to find the room softly lit by the bedside table lamp. April was propped in bed on several pillows, her broken arm supported by yet another. Her face was turned into a pillow, and tears were evident on her cheeks.

"I heard you crying," Joe said with concern. "Is your arm hurting you? Or does something else hurt?"

"Not – exactly." April sniffed, and swiped at her eyes. "It's more – I can't sleep, that's all."

"Strange house?" Joe smiled. "I know it's hard to fall asleep when you're not used to a place."

She shook her head. "I'm – too upset – and mad," she admitted. "I'm still mad at Jack for getting mixed up in a drug deal. And I'm hurt because I know he thinks I'm not a good enough pilot to fly for him anymore. I crashed the plane; he'll never trust me to fly for him again. And – and I'm afraid. Jack's going to go to prison, isn't he, Joe?"

Joe realized with a start that so far as April knew, Jack _was_ involved in running drugs with Ernie and Deke. No one had told her any differently; they had not shared Jack's story with Laura or the girls. He sat down beside her, on the edge of the bed.

"I don't think Jack wanted you to know all of this," he began, "but I believe you deserve to be told." Quietly, he related the story that Jack had told them earlier, explaining what he had decided after Jesse Robertson's death, and the things he had done. Joe was careful to omit the part about Jack's tampering with the oil line, however; if Jack wanted April to ever know _that_ , he'd have to tell her himself.

When he reached the conclusion, Joe smiled at April. "Still mad?"

"Yes and no," she replied. "I'm really, really glad he's not running drugs – and I can see why he wanted to avenge Jesse's death – but Joe, why didn't he trust me in the first place?!"

Joe thought fast. "He does trust you, April. He was just trying to protect you. After all, you are only 16 – and you're his baby sister!"

April bristled. "Baby sister, baby sister," she snapped. "That's all I hear, 'baby sister.' I'm not a baby!"

"Hey, chill out…Frank does the same thing to me," Joe told her. "And he sure doesn't have that ten-year age gap that Jack does over you!" He thought about it for a moment. "They can't help it; they just feel protective, even if we don't need or want it. And I don't think it ever changes. Frank will probably still be calling me 'baby brother,' and trying to look out for me, when we're both in our 40's!"

April giggled at his comment. "I suppose so," she admitted. "But I'm tired of him treating me like I'm too young and stupid to be trusted."

"Hey—" Joe put a finger under her chin and made her look at him. "Jack trusts you enough to pilot for him, and that's a lot of trust. But remember, he's responsible for you, since your dad died. He was just trying to keep you from being hurt."

She dropped her gaze. "I guess you're right…I know you're right."

"Think you can sleep now?" Joe stood up. "Can I get you anything? Pain pills, drink of water, anything like that?"

"No thanks, Joe. I'm fine." She smiled wearily. "I am getting sleepy, I guess."

"Good. I'll see you in the morning, then." Joe switched off the bedside lamp and left the room, carefully shutting the door. Behind him, April closed her eyes, a dreamy smile curving her mouth upward as she drifted off to sleep.

#####

Frank was up early the next morning, anxious to be on his way to his new job. Although Jack wasn't expecting him until eight o'clock, Frank was ready to leave by seven, and had to force himself to sit quietly reading the morning paper and making conversation with his parents. Neither Joe nor April had made an appearance at this early hour.

"You're really looking forward to this, aren't you?" Fenton asked, as he saw Frank look at the clock for the fifth time in ten minutes.

"I really am," Frank admitted with a grin. "I want to help Jack with the drug sting, of course – but I want to fly again, too!"

Finally seven-thirty arrived, and Frank felt he could leave for the airfield without appearing too overeager. When he pulled the van into the parking lot, he felt as if bubbles of anticipation were rising in his throat. He walked quickly into the hangar, looking around for Jack. There was no sign of the young pilot, but two other men were working, stacking cartons and checking invoices. They both wore coveralls with the scripted _Wayne's World_ logo sewn on a pocket.

One of the men was tall and lanky, and quite young; perhaps a year or so older than Frank himself. He had wavy dark hair, cut quite short, and dark eyes. He looked up from his work and grinned as the Hardy boy walked over to him.

"Hi there! You must be Frank, right? Jack called and told us you were coming in today." He held out his hand. "I'm Jason Montgomery. I do maintenance, and cargo handling, and cleanup, and – and anything else I'm told to do!"

"Do you pilot?" Frank asked, returning the cordial handclasp.

Jason shook his head. "No – not me! I like planes when they're on the ground!" They laughed together.

The second man approached now. Frank noted that he was older, probably in his late 30's or early 40's, and of medium height, about 5'10". He had pale blonde hair, and his eyes were a light blue shade that reminded Frank of a Weimaraner's. He too extended his hand to the Hardy boy.

"Hello there. I'm Roger Taylor. I'm in charge of cargo here…and I do occasional maintenance and engine repair." Roger Taylor smiled thinly.

"Nice to meet you," Frank said, and returned the smile, but he thought: _Somehow, I don't feel like I'd want Mr. Taylor hovering over my shoulder!_ He gave himself a mental shake. _What did you tell Joe? Don't make snap judgments!_

"Jack said he taught you to fly?" Jason asked eagerly.

"That's right," Frank nodded. Before he could continue the conversation, the sound of quick footsteps made all three of them turn towards the entrance again. Jack Wayne strode in, whistling.

"Morning, guys! You ready for this, Frank?" he inquired, laughing when Frank nodded enthusiastically. "Is the plane loaded, Roger? I want to go up with Frank and make sure he hasn't forgotten everything I ever taught him."

"It's ready to go," the older man replied. "Gassed up and all the cargo's on and secured."

"Great!" Jack clapped Frank on the back. "Let's go; no time like the present!"

Frank and Jack climbed aboard, Frank settling into the pilot's seat and Jack taking the copilot's. "Pretend I'm not here," Jack instructed, "and just do everything like you're on your own…unless you have a question, that is."

Frank took a deep breath and let it out. _Do it right, Hardy!_ He started the engines, and began checking the various switches, dials and controls. Jack watched silently, a slight smile on his tanned face. After a few tense minutes, Frank began to relax; things were coming easily, and he realized he knew exactly what he was doing. He glanced over at Jack. "Ready."

Jack gestured toward the radio. "Go ahead."

Frank contacted the tower announcing his imminent departure, and was told which runway he should use. He let up on the brakes and gave the plane some gas, and the little craft moved smoothly along the tarmac. When they reached the end of the runway, he again spoke to the tower, and received the eagerly-anticipated "cleared for takeoff" announcement.

 _Taxi down the runway…build up the speed…pull back on the yoke –_ _now_ _!_ As if Frank's thoughts had been spoken instructions and the little plane an intelligent being, it gave a smooth leap into the air, and the ground fell away from beneath them. Frank couldn't restrain a triumphant grin, and he heard Jack's indulgent chuckle and quiet "Nice," to his right.

Once cruising at one thousand feet and cleared from radio contact with the Bayport tower, Frank glanced over at his former instructor. "What do you want me to do now?"

"Just do a few banks and turns, just the general stuff," Jack replied. "Get used to flying again…and remember, this critter is larger than the one you used to fly, and you'll have a lot of weight sometimes, with cargo."

Frank obeyed, reminding himself yet again that he would be flying cargo runs, not playing. He concentrated on doing each turn and bank, dive and climb, with the greatest precision. After a few more minutes, however, Jack spoke again.

"You're doing great, Frank; just relax. You're not trying for your pilot's license again, you know! This is just a refresher!"

"I know." _But I want to do it perfectly!_ was his mental addition. "I met your cargo handlers, Jason and Roger," he commented, changing the subject abruptly, although of course Jack had seen them together when he arrived.

"Ummm. Yes, Jason and Roger," Jack nodded. "Any first impressions?"

"Mmm...maybe. Jason is a nice kid. Roger is – I'm sure he's great, but he seems sort of – I don't know, repressive, I guess. That sounds stupid, I know—"

Jack began to laugh. "Your instincts are better than I thought!" he said. "Roger isn't a cargo handler by trade, Frank. He's a DEA agent, working undercover!"

"What?" Frank was so startled he nearly let the plane drop into a dive.

"When this whole mess started, after Jesse was killed, the DEA sent him in, to keep an eye on things at the airfield in general, and Wayne's World in particular. Jason doesn't know that Roger's anything other than the guy who handles paperwork, plus an occasional repair job, or helping load cargo. April doesn't either. I know – and your dad knows – and now you do."

Frank leveled the plane out and banked into a turn, heading back toward the airport. "I didn't think about that…the DEA, I mean. No wonder he struck me as being a little 'off,' if he's an agent."

Jack chuckled. "Ever think that might be true of you and Joe, too?" Frank shot him a surprised stare, then reluctantly grinned.

When they hit a pocket of warm air that pushed the little plane upwards with a jolt, Jack began to laugh reminiscently. "Do those bother you, Frank?" he asked, as the boy guided them back to a level position again.

"No, not usually. Joe hates turbulence, though – makes him sick."

Jack laughed harder. "Oh, don't I know it! Frank, don't ever tell Joe I did this – but when I was attempting to teach your brother to fly, I made him upchuck more than once – by making the plane feel like it was hitting really rough turbulence."

"What?" Frank didn't know whether to laugh or be annoyed on Joe's behalf. "That was kind of mean, Jack!"

"I didn't do it a whole lot, just a couple of times, when he wasn't paying close enough attention to something I was trying to teach him. Just enough to wake him up a little…"

"You did that on purpose—" Frank marveled. "And here I thought he was just unfortunate enough to hit turbulence when he was flying…I remember, he came down from a couple of flights looking totally green." He paused. "Can you teach me to do it?" he asked with a wicked grin.

Jack gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Someday, Frank…someday."

Too soon for Frank, they were approaching the runways again. He radioed the tower for landing clearance, located the indicated runway, and brought the little cargo plane down in a smooth, fast landing – _Yes!_ – that had Jack grinning and giving him a thumbs-up as he taxied back to the Wayne's World hangar. When Frank switched the engine off, he turned to his former instructor and smiled hopefully.

"Did I pass?" he asked. Although he was sure he had done well, Frank still felt butterflies in his stomach as he waited for Jack's reply.

Jack's grin widened. "To make a really bad joke – with flying colors!" he chuckled. "Congratulations and welcome to Wayne's World, Frank! You can make the cargo run as soon as you've had a chance to catch your breath."

Jack was right, Frank noted as he climbed out of the plane. He _needed_ a chance to catch his breath; he was nearly panting with a combination of exhilaration and nerves. He happily accepted Jason's and Roger's congratulations, and went inside to get a drink of water. While he was there, he heard the telephone ring, then Jack's voice answering it.

A few minutes later, Jack emerged from his office, smiling broadly. "I just got a call from the NTSB investigator!" he announced. Frank nodded, waiting for Jack to continue. He knew NTSB stood for the National Transportation Safety Board, an agency that investigated the causes of airplane crashes. "According to preliminary investigation, the cause of April's crash was mechanical fault, not pilot error."

Frank couldn't help snorting with laughter at this. "You knew that already, Jack," he murmured to his friend.

"I know, I know!" Jack responded. "But April will be glad to hear it from the official investigators. She's been so worried that I thought it was her fault the plane crashed; that I didn't want her to fly for me anymore. Silly, but there it is."

"She cares more about what you think than what the NTSB or the FAA thinks!" Frank stated firmly. "She looks up to you, and she hates to think you considered her a failure as a pilot."

Jack nodded ruefully. "I know. I just couldn't tell her that I knew she didn't do anything wrong, without admitting – well, you know," he murmured. He leaned against the nearest wall, folding his arms across his chest. "Ever get tired of being a big brother, Frank?" he asked.

Frank's lips twitched. "Well, sometimes maybe. You?"

"April always looks at me like I should have all the answers," Jack lamented. "and then she gets so upset when I don't. She's got this image in her squirrelly little brain, of the perfect older brother – and there's no way I can live up to it. She never wants to listen to any advice, though, I notice."

"I know what you mean," Frank agreed, grateful for the chance to share his "big brother" woes with a comrade. "Joe's been rushing in without looking ahead for nearly 18 years now, and I've had to rush after him to try and keep him out of trouble all that time. Sometimes I get tired of being the perfect role model. Joe expects me to be calm and rational in an emergency." He grinned reminiscently. "That doesn't always work anymore, though…I can't keep my cool if anything happens to Megan. Joe finds that hard to handle sometimes. He can't look to me for guidance because I'm too busy going out of my mind about her."

Jack chuckled. "Younger siblings – they drive you nuts, but you can't imagine living without them, either…. You ready to make your first cargo run?" He laughed at Frank's enthusiastic response. "Okay, hotshot, let's get you into the air!"

#####

That evening, the normally reserved Frank was bubbling with excitement over his day at Wayne's World; so much so that his family teased him at the dinner table. April joined in on the fun, intimating that she was worried Frank was about to steal her job from her. She was slightly envious of him; after all, those afternoon runs had been _hers_.

"There you are, older and a guy at that!" she mock-pouted. "Jack would much rather have you fly for him. By the time my arm and ribs heal, you'll be so entrenched there that I won't have a chance!" She winked at Joe, as Frank's mouth dropped open in consternation, then continued in a sad tone. "I'll have to go apply at one of the other services, I guess…."

"April, you know that's not true! – oh, you little brat, you're kidding!" Frank heaved an exasperated sigh. "As if having Joe around wasn't bad enough. You're ganging up on me!"

"I want to do something tomorrow," April announced, as they began eating their dessert of warm gingerbread with whipped cream. "Mmmmm, Mrs. Hardy, this is so good!…. Anyway, I'd like to get my car from the lot at the airfield. Would that be possible?" She glanced from Frank to Joe, inquiringly.

Joe shrugged. "Why not? Although you can't drive it, you know; not with your arm in that cast and sling."

She sighed, downcast. "I know. But I don't want it parked there in the lot much longer; I'm afraid someone might decide to start stripping it for parts, or something."

"Why don't you just drive it home after work tomorrow, Frank?" Joe suggested. "That would be the easiest thing to do."

"Well, sure Joe – I could drive it home, but then someone would have to take me to work. Do I hear you volunteering to get up at 6:00 to get me there?"

"Six o'clock!" Joe spluttered, nearly choking on his gingerbread. "You don't have to be there until eight! Why would I have to get up at six?"

"I want to be there early," Frank replied coolly.

Joe shuddered dramatically. "Let's find another plan," he hastily suggested. "How about if you take the van to work, and someone else drops me off later, and I can drive April's car back here."

Fenton cleared his throat meaningfully, and when Joe looked at him, the detective glanced at April, whose head was bent over her plate as she concentrated on managing to eat with her left hand. Joe got the message: _you need to stay with April, remember?_

"Or – April and I could go together," Joe amended, almost without a break. "Want to do that, April?"

She looked up and smiled happily at him. "I'd like that a lot, Joe."

"I'll call Jack after dinner, and tell him what's going on; he was going to pick me up for work so that you could have the van, Joe. I'll tell him that you and April are going to get her car later, and I'll just drive the van to work," Frank volunteered. "Now the only question is, who gets to take April and Joe over to the airfield?" He looked at his mother, who smiled and shrugged; Laura would do it if she had to, but she was going to wait and see if her sons came up with a better plan.

"I think I have that covered," Joe grinned. "I'll call Vanessa, and ask if she'll pick us up. She said something about meeting Megan for lunch; she can drop us on her way."

Some of the happiness dimmed from April's face. She lowered her gaze back to her plate, and concentrated once more on her gingerbread. _Always…always just the little sister…._

#####

Later that evening, in a hotel near the airport, two men sat at a table, deep in discussion. Both were irritable and frustrated; things had not been going well for Deke and Ernie lately.

"…we nearly drowned him, Ernie, and he still didn't tell us what he did with the actual coke!" Burly Deke slapped the table in disgust.

"We should have drowned him," Ernie growled. "I don't know how he did it, but that slimeball managed to switch the real stuff for baby powder. Baby powder, can you believe it?" He picked up his cigar from the ashtray on the table and put it in his mouth.

"Good thing you decided to check it out," Deke mumbled, almost too low for Ernie's ears. Secretly, he had been appalled at the other man's temerity in opening up the heavily wrapped and sealed brick, but now he was glad Ernie had dared to do so.

"Maybe we're threatening Jack Wayne the wrong way." Ernie's dark beady eyes gleamed as a new thought occurred to him. "If we can't find out what he did with the drugs – or make him give them up to us, if he still has them – maybe he should lose something that's important to him."

"Like what?" Deke asked. "Blow up his other plane, or something?"

"Well, that's not too bad an idea," Ernie conceded. "But that wasn't what I was thinking of. I had something even more precious in mind."

Deke frowned, puzzled, and Ernie wondered for a moment just how much brain power the big man actually possessed. "His sister, you idiot! The cute kid at the hospital! The one you locked in the closet!"

"Aw, Ernie, do we have to kill her? She's such a cute little thing…"

"I don't care if she's Shirley Temple! We've coddled Jack Wayne for long enough. It's time to play rough."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews; you're greatly appreciated! I know it's difficult trying to follow a story when the updates don't get announced.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 11

True to his word, Frank was at the airfield early, pulling the van into the charter service parking lot at seven-thirty. He doubted if anyone else would be there at that time, save Jack, and he wanted to look the place over more closely than he had had a chance to do the previous day. He noted April's little Neon, looking lonely in the middle of the lot, with no other vehicles anywhere near it.

To his surprise, Roger Taylor was there before him. He was seated at the desk in Jack's office, doing paperwork.

"Morning, Roger." Frank popped his head in the door and smiled as warmly as he could. The slight blonde man was apparently checking over invoices of supplies, from what Frank could see of his work.

"Good morning, Frank. You're here early." Roger glanced at his watch and tilted an inquiring eyebrow. "I didn't realize you would be here in the mornings as well as doing April's afternoon runs."

"Uh – Jack said Jason and you could use an extra hand doing loading, and I don't start back to class until next week," Frank explained. "When I'm back in school, I'll be able to fly a couple of afternoons, and a couple of full days; my schedule is set up so that I don't have classes on Tuesdays this term."

Roger nodded without much interest, and turned his eyes back to his paperwork. Frank was left with the definite impression of being summarily dismissed. He backed out of Jack's office with a muttered "see you later," and beat a hasty retreat.

Jason arrived a few minutes later, and the two of them checked their instructions for the day, then started loading both Jack's plane and the gold-and-green one that had belonged to Jesse Robertson with their respective cargoes. As they worked, Frank decided this was a perfect opportunity to do a little sleuthing.

"Were you here last Monday, when April's plane crashed?" he asked Jason.

Jason nodded. "Yes. Boy, that was a nasty mess! Jack about went out of his mind!"

"Did anything unusual happen? Before she left, I mean?" Frank tried to sound casual.

"No, everything was pretty much as usual. Except, of course, that we were slow getting April's plane loaded. She was really ticked off; she hates to ever be late with a run. And of course, sometimes it does make a difference, if we have something that needs to be put on a connecting flight, or something. But it wouldn't have been that important on Monday. Anyway, April was really impatient, and that's why she decided to take Jack's flight instead of waiting for her plane to be finished."

"Was Jack's plane thoroughly checked out before she left?" Frank asked idly. He wondered if Jason or Roger had possibly noticed Jack's transgression with the loosened oil line. "Or was there anyone else around that might have tampered with the plane, or anything? Someone that isn't ordinarily here, I mean."

"Jack checked it himself, Frank!" Jason sounded shocked. "No one was around the plane except April, and she sure wouldn't mess with a plane she was about to fly! That would be crazy!"

 _But that's exactly what Jack did…._ Frank thought. _It sounds crazy, sure, but that's exactly what happened. Or – nah, that's ridiculous – but could_ _April_ _possibly have put the kilos of cocaine in the plane?_ He stopped short, incredulous at the sudden turn his thoughts had taken. _Hardy, don't be a jerk, you know she didn't have anything to do with it…_. But in the back of his mind, he could hear his own voice saying " _don't make snap judgments about people…_." He went on with his work without asking any more questions of Jason.

A little later, Roger came out of the office to check invoices against cartons. Frank took advantage of Jason's temporary absence outside to ask Roger the same question he had asked Jason, but the agent's answer was disappointing.

"I was here early on Monday, but I'd gone to lunch by the time April got here, and she left before I returned." he said. "I heard about it later, and I was here when Jack got the call from the airport where she was supposed to land, saying that she'd disappeared off their radar. I thought Jack was going to have a heart attack when that call came through."

Jack's arrival cut the question-and-answer session short, and Frank concentrated on doing the necessary tasks relating to his job. Since Frank was there for the whole day, Jack was juggling the runs, trying to fit in an extra one in the morning without making either of them late for afternoon jobs.

Going into Jack's office to secure his approval of a schedule change during the morning, Frank stared around the cubicle with interest as Jack scanned the paperwork. His desk was covered with maps, flight logs and such, but a small table in the corner was pointedly bare, save for a baseball card encased in plastic and mounted for display.

"What's this, Jack?" Frank indicated the card. "I didn't know you were a baseball fan."

Jack glanced at the card and grinned reminiscently. "Ordinarily, I'm not, but that card's really special."

"May I?" Frank reached for the mounted card. Jack nodded, and Frank picked it up, handling it carefully. "Hey, it's signed!"

"Uh-huh." Jack leaned back in his swivel chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "Want to hear the story?"

Frank nodded, and perched on a corner of Jack's desk.

"Well, a while back, the Toronto Blue Jays were playing the New York Yankees, in New York. The game was called because of rain; there was a bad storm that swept in; tail end of a hurricane, I think. Just about that time, the team gets a phone call; the wife of one of their players – Mark Guthrie, it was – has gone into labor in Toronto. Naturally, Guthrie wants to get back to Toronto right away."

"Sounds reasonable," Frank nodded.

"I agree. The only problem was, with the storm, flights were being canceled right and left. The team plane wasn't going anywhere. The regularly scheduled commercial flights were delayed or canceled, and private flights – well, I heard someone describe it as suicidal!" Jack grinned devilishly at Frank, and tilted a dark eyebrow.

"You didn't!" Frank began to laugh, anticipating what was coming next.

"Hey, the guy was desperate to get to Toronto, and he paid big bucks! Darned right I took it! It was a nasty flight, I'll admit….To make it worse, we weren't heading for the big international airport, we had to go to Toronto Island Airport! It was windy and rainy and foggy – downright brutal – but I got him there!" Jack smiled triumphantly. "And he made it to the hospital just in time to welcome a 5 lb.-11 oz. son into the world. He was really grateful, I guess, because in addition to the fee, he added that signed baseball card – and one more thing: he and his wife decided to stick the poor kid with the middle name of 'Wayne' as well!"

Frank handed him the card. "That's really swell, Jack. Thanks for telling me about it."

"I keep that card there, as a reminder to take an occasional risk; sometimes they pay off." Jack set the card back in its accustomed place. "And nobody had better dare move it, either!" he grinned. "No one messes with my good luck charm!"

Some time later, Frank was busy with a pre-flight check of Jesse's plane when the telephone rang. A few minutes later, Jack shouted to him to come into the office.

Frank stepped into the little cubicle. "What is it Jack? I was in the middle of – hey, what's wrong?" He stared in dismay at his friend; Jack was standing behind his desk; his dark eyes were wide with shock, and his face was the color of parchment. "Here, sit down." He took Jack's arm and forced him into a chair. "What's happened?"

"That telephone call—" Jack rasped. "It was Deke. He said – he said…." He stopped speaking and swallowed hard. "He said, 'you thought you got away with it, didn't you? We're not making nice anymore…better watch out for that little kid sister of yours, Wayne. We let her alone so far, but no more. Since you won't give us what's rightfully ours, we're gonna see that you lose something of yours.'"

"Take it easy, Jack." Frank gripped Jack's shoulder, trying to calm and soothe the distraught pilot. "Nothing's going to happen to April; that's why Joe's playing bodyguard, remember? He isn't going to let anyone do anything to her."

"Frank, he can't protect her from a bullet!" Jack cried. "What if they just outright shoot her?"

"Deke and Ernie have no way of knowing where April is," Frank reminded him.

"They found her in the hospital; they can find her again!" Jack refused to be comforted. "I'd better go to her—" He started to rise from the chair, but Frank clamped a hand on his arm and forced him down again.

"That's the worst thing you could possibly do, Jack! Didn't you hear what I just said, they don't have any idea where she is – you don't want to lead them right to her, do you? What if they're keeping an eye on you, and follow you to get to her?"

"Oh God," Jack moaned and dropped his face into his hands. "What am I going to do?"

"Try to relax." Frank picked up the telephone receiver and began dialing. "I'll call Joe and tell him what's happened….Joe? Hi, it's me. Listen, Jack just got a phone call from your good friend Deke – shhh, hey, don't say things like that! Mom will jump down your throat if she hears you….Listen to me…they're threatening April now, since Jack didn't give them the bricks of cocaine. So keep a really close eye on things, huh? Be extra cautious today when you come to pick up her car….Right, I know you will; I just wanted to warn you to be really careful….Yeah, I will. See you later."

Frank hung up the phone and turned again to Jack. "It will be all right, Jack," he reiterated. "Now that Joe's been forewarned, he'll be on the lookout for anything suspicious. He'll take care of April."

Jack didn't lift his head. "He can't stop a bullet…" he whispered. "Frank, if they do something to April…she's all I have left – if she's hurt – killed…I think I'll die too."

#####

Vanessa swung her little Wrangler into the parking lot near the Wayne'sWorld hangars, and shut off the engine. April unfastened her seat belt and awkwardly fumbled with the door handle with her left hand; finally she managed to open the door and get out. Joe squirmed out behind her, grimacing at the contortions he had to go through to extricate himself from the small back seat. He leaned back into the car, stretching over the passenger seat and the shift console.

"Bye, sugar," he murmured and kissed Vanessa lightly. "Thanks for the lift; I'll call you later."

His girlfriend smiled and returned his kiss. "Okay. I'll be home after I have lunch with Megan. You're welcome for the ride." She raised her voice. "Bye, April!"

The younger girl smiled and waved, stepping back from the Wrangler as Vanessa turned the key to start the motor. Joe moved back and shut the door; Vanessa let out the clutch and headed toward the exit.

As Joe and April walked toward the little Neon, he kept scanning the parking lot and the surrounding area, alert for signs of anything amiss. Frank's telephone call about a possible threat against April had concerned Joe more than he cared to admit, although he hadn't said anything about it to April. _She's already been upset enough, the last couple of days. She doesn't need me saying something to scare her, too._

April stopped walking to search her bag for her car keys. "They always fall to the bottom…darn, where are they?"

Joe watched her, amused. "I've never figured out why you girls carry so much stuff in your purses," he said. "Vanessa and Megan, same way. Jeez, Megan carries a backpack almost as big as she is!"

"It's the principle of 'I might need it,'" April informed him with great condescension. "And more often than not, I do need it – whatever 'it' happens to be….Ah, here they are!" She dangled the keys triumphantly in front of Joe's face and started to limp toward her car again. "I'll be glad to have my wheels back," she called over her shoulder.

"Even though you can't drive?" Joe teased her. He took a step to follow April…and a sudden flash of alarm hit him like a lightning bolt. _Cars…threat against April…Jesse Robertson…car bomb…April's car…BOMB!_

"April, stop! Don't open the door!" he screamed, and flung himself across the intervening space toward the girl.

April had inserted the key in the door lock and turned it, and just as Joe reached her, she depressed the button and opened the door. Desperately, Joe grabbed her from behind and pulled her straight backwards so that she landed on top of him, his body cushioning hers from contact with the pavement. Pain radiated through him at the impact, but he managed to roll to the side, away from the vehicle.

"Joe! What are you doing?" April shrieked. "Have you gone nuts?"

Joe didn't bother answering her; he was too busy trying to scoot and slither further away from the Neon. Two seconds…three…four…and then there came the sound of a tremendous explosion….


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews [Max2013, Cherylann, Sparkling Soul]; you're greatly appreciated! And thank you to those who are reading it even if you aren't leaving commentary! I know it's difficult trying to follow a story when the updates don't get announced.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 12

Joe felt himself lifted, still clutching April against him, and thrown down to the ground again, landing with stunning force. The little green Neon burst into flames behind them; searing heat washed over them, and pieces of glass, metal and plastic rained down upon the two teens. Joe tried to curl into a ball around April, attempting to shield her from the debris while at the same time covering his head with one arm.

After a few seconds, the malevolent shower ceased, and there was only heat, and the sound of the flames licking at April's car. Joe slackened his grasp slightly. "April! April – you okay?" He gasped, breathed in smoke, and began to cough. He gave her a little shake. "April?"

She started to cough too, and he felt her nod her head against his chest. "I – I think so!" she wheezed. "But my ribs sure hurt again!" She wriggled slightly. "Don't squeeze me so tight, Joe!"

Through the sounds of the crackling flames, Joe heard shouts and running feet. "Joe!" "April! Joe!"

 _Must be Frank…_ he thought dazedly _…Frank and Jack…._ The footsteps pounded closer, then they were there; both older brothers leaning over their siblings lying on the pavement. Frank looked as frightened as Joe could ever remember seeing him, and Jack's face was chalk-white.

"April!" Jack gathered his sister into his arms as Joe reluctantly loosened his grip. "Oh baby, are you all right? Tell me you're okay, please?"

Joe half-expected her to dissolve into tears, but April was too stunned to even think of crying. "I'm okay, Jack. Just – startled," she murmured, and looked over at the smoking remains of her car. "But – why did my car blow up?" she asked, helplessly.

Frank, who had been running anxious hands over his brother, searching for injuries, looked grim. "I think Deke and Ernie are getting a little desperate," he growled. "I'll bet anything you care to name that there was a bomb rigged in there with a door-open trigger." He turned his attention back to Joe. "Where do you hurt worst?" he demanded.

Joe tried to sit up, but grimaced and desisted. "Landed flat on my back – twice," he admitted. "It's pretty sore – but I don't think anything is broken. I'm going to have bruises to match the ones on my stomach, though." He attempted to push himself up once again. Frank put an arm about his shoulders, bracing him, and this time Joe managed to achieve a sitting position.

The sound of a car rapidly approaching made them all tense, but it was Vanessa's Wrangler that came roaring across the parking lot. She brought it to a halt and flung herself out.

"What happened?" she shouted. "I was halfway down the block when I heard the noise….Joe – April! Are you two okay?"

Jason came running from the hangar. "I called 911!" he yelled. "They should be here right away!"

Vanessa crouched down beside her boyfriend. "Joe, are you hurt?"

He tried to grin at her in reassurance. "Not really."

Sirens wailed in the distance, coming steadily closer. "I am not going to let more medics near me again!" April snapped crossly, and pulled herself to her feet, using Jack's shoulder as a prop as he knelt beside her.

Jack tried to restrain her, his expression highly concerned. "April, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to let them look you over. You might have re-injured your ribs, or your arm, or messed up the stitches in your leg. The doctor told you to take it easy – I don't think having Joe throw you on the ground was what he had in mind!"

April gave him a steely look. "Would you rather he hadn't thrown me to the ground?" she inquired, and glanced eloquently at the remains of her car.

Jack, who had regained some of his color, turned white again. "Oh, baby, of course not! How could you think that?" April continued to glare at him. "Okay, I can see how you might think it, but April, I would rather my right arm be cut off than to have something happen to you! I just don't want to take any chances that you were hurt—"

"Jack, I'm fine. Joe took the brunt of the impact; worry about him, not me. There's nothing wrong with me that a trip to a car dealership won't cure." Finally, April smiled at her older brother. "Please, Jack, please get me out of here before they try to truss me up like a turkey again!" she pleaded.

Jack gave in, as April had known he would He rose from his crouched position, and put his arm about her; holding her as carefully as if she had been a piece of fragile crystal, he helped his sister toward the office.

"Can you walk?" Frank asked Joe anxiously. Joe nodded, and let Frank and Vanessa assist him to his feet. He found the pain in his back eased somewhat when he was upright, and that fact reassured him that he was not seriously hurt. Moving slowly and leaning against Frank's shoulder, Joe managed to walk the short distance to the Hardy van. Frank slid the side door open and eased Joe into the middle seat, then turned back to watch as a fire truck, an ambulance, and a police cruiser swept into the parking lot. Firefighters leaped from their truck and swung into action; in just a few minutes they were spraying water onto April's smoldering car.

"Do you want to be checked over by the EMTs?" Frank murmured to his brother. At Joe's head-shake, he said: "Okay, try to look a little healthier, then."

Joe laughed weakly, and he and Vanessa watched Frank walk over to talk to the police officers and emergency personnel. The medics didn't look happy at being summarily dismissed, but finally they got back into their ambulance and departed. Frank kept talking to the uniformed officers, gesturing toward Joe, the Wayne's World office, and then the drenched Neon. Joe saw one of the officers speak briefly into a cell phone. As they waited, Joe explained to Vanessa about the threatening phone call, and the fact that he was supposed to be guarding April.

Frank returned to the van. "They called in for bomb experts to take a look at April's car…and I'm not moving from this place until I find out exactly what was planted in it." He looked keenly at his younger brother and added, "That is, unless I suddenly need to take you to the hospital, or something. Are you sure you're okay?"

Joe nodded. "I'll admit, I wouldn't mind lying down for a little while, and I definitely want some aspirin – but I'll be okay."

Vanessa gently stroked his hair. "You should go home and rest," she advised. "Do you want me to take you?"

"Nah, you go on to your lunch with Megan, babe." Joe leaned his head against hers for a moment. "I'll be fine, I promise."

Jack and April came out of the office now, and approached the Hardys' van. "Joe, are you sure you're all right?" Jack asked him solicitously. Joe nodded and sighed; he was getting tired of answering the same question over and over.

"Joe, you saved my life – again!" April leaned into the van to put her left arm about the younger Hardy's neck. "First out in the woods where the plane crashed, and now you've done this!" She impulsively kissed his cheek, and Joe turned red, seeing Frank's grin – and Vanessa's sardonic glance. "How can I ever thank you?"

"It's okay, April. No thanks necessary. I'm just glad you're all right," Joe said awkwardly. He inwardly blessed the arrival of the police officer at that moment, who wished to take statements from both of them.

Vanessa gave Joe a quick kiss, but murmured an aside to his brother. "Get him home, Frank!" she whispered, then departed. Joe pulled himself erect in his seat, and concentrated on answering the officer's questions regarding the explosion.

#####

Vanessa flung herself into the booth, sitting down across from Megan, and grabbed a piece of pizza from the pan in the middle of the table. "I'm sorry I'm late; thanks for ordering – but listen! You'll never believe what happened!" she gasped. "There was a bomb in April Wayne's car!"

"What?" Megan stared at her in consternation, her own slice of pizza held poised in one hand. "Is she all right?"

Vanessa nodded, chewing rapidly. "It blew up the car," she managed to say. "but Joe grabbed her before it went off, and got her away from it. Apparently, Jack received a threatening phone call this morning, and the boys were on the watch. Lucky for April, although not for her car." Vanessa sighed then. "But that just adds fuel to the fire."

"What fire?" Megan inquired; she resumed munching on her pizza.

"Joe!" Vanessa snapped. "Can't he see what's happening? April Wayne has a big-time crush on him. You've seen the way she watches him all the time, haven't you? When she doesn't think he's looking at her? And he's so blind, he can't see those hero-worshipping eyes following him everywhere. And after what happened today – she's practically drooling on his shoes!" She wound a strand of melted mozzarella cheese around her slice of pizza, then took a rather savage bite, scowling.

Megan nodded. "I noticed it. But Vanessa, Joe's not interested in April; you know that."

"Oh, I know…." Vanessa conceded. "He just thinks of her as a nice kid that he's helping…Megan, why does he always have to help people?" She angrily stripped the paper from her straw, and stuck it into her cup of Pepsi.

Megan's blue-green eyes twinkled, but she carefully didn't meet Vanessa's gaze. "Tell me again, Van – just how did you happen to meet Joe?"

"Huh? Oh – we met in the parking lot at school – my very first day at Bayport High. Someone had slashed all four of my car tires, and he and Frank offered me a ride and called a tow truck….oh." Color suffused the tall blonde's face. "Um – he – um – was helping me…."

Megan smiled understandingly. "And if I hadn't asked Frank for help…well, let's just say that my life would be considerably different now." She slid over to sit beside Vanessa, encircled her with her arm, and hugged her gently. "And Van – would you really want Joe to be different? Isn't that part of why we love them – because they are always willing to help someone who needs it?"

Vanessa buried her face against Megan's shoulder. "I know," she murmured, "But sometimes it's easy to forget that, when we're always the ones getting left behind….and I'm always so scared for Joe. I'm afraid something will happen to him. Today – Megan, he could have been killed by that explosion, just as easily as April might have been." She frowned, thinking back. "And they always seem to have to help pretty girls, too!"

Megan began to laugh. "Oh dear – Vanessa, you're going to kill me for saying this – but you're starting to sound just like Callie Shaw did!" Vanessa raised her head abruptly, ready for battle but Megan's infectious giggle worked its usual charm, and Vanessa reluctantly began to laugh too.

"I guess I do," she admitted. "Well, Callie had a point. We do get left behind."

"It seems to me I heard something about you masterminding a rescue plan, last January," Megan reminded her. "You certainly didn't get left behind then." She hugged Vanessa again. "Let's talk about something else for a while," she suggested. "What are you giving Joe for his birthday?"

#####

Back at the airfield, the police investigators had finally arrived, and begun their inspection of what remained of April's car. Frank wanted to stay there while they worked, but the officers grimly ordered him away. Frank gritted his teeth, but obediently removed himself from the area after extracting a promise that he be informed of their findings as soon as possible.

He walked into the hangar and made his way to the employees' break room, where Joe was stretched out on a battered leather couch. Jack had produced some Excedrin, and the younger Hardy assured his worried older brother that the analgesic was working.

"I'm feeling better; don't be such a fuss-budget. What have they found out about April's car?" Joe gingerly pushed himself onto his elbows; finding his back no longer ached so ferociously, he swung into a sitting position.

"I don't think they've found anything yet," Frank scowled. "They won't let me stay out there and watch them."

Joe snorted. "I wouldn't either; you'd drive me crazy. Where did April go?"

"She's in Jack's office with him. Oh, here they come now," Frank added, looking through the open door. Jack Wayne entered the room, his arm still protectively about his younger sister.

"Joe, how are you doing?" Jack queried, his dark eyes anxiously surveying Joe.

"Almost as good as new," Joe assured him. "April, are you okay now?"

The young girl nodded. "I was just jarred; I'm fine."

"Guys, I want you to go home, okay? Go home and take April with you." Jack spoke seriously, looking from Frank to Joe. "I've got some business to take care of here."

Frank shook his head. "I'm sticking around until I hear about April's car," he stated firmly. "And besides, I've got a run to make this afternoon, remember?" he reminded his employer.

"Jack, what kind of business do you have to take care of?" April's hazel eyes were worried. "Whatever it is, can't I help?"

"No, sis." Jack hugged her tightly against his side. "It's time I ended this whole thing, once and for all."

April felt cold chills creep up her spine as she heard her brother's words. "Jack, what do you mean? What are you going to do?" she asked fearfully.

"April – honey, listen to me. I know I haven't done anything to earn your trust lately, but please, just trust me for now. I'm going to talk to Fenton, and we'll work something out so those bas—um, creeps, Deke and Ernie can never hurt you again." Jack's voice was grim; it was almost as if the boys' friend had suddenly disappeared, leaving the cold-eyed stranger they had seen a few days before. The effect was chilling, but brief; abruptly Jack's face softened.

"Guys, please – I want you to stick to April like glue. You two are the only ones I trust her with right now. If anything happened to her, I don't know what I'd do…but you've saved her several times already, and I know she's as safe as she possibly can be, if you two are with her."

"Jack, she'll be as safe with Joe as she would be with both of us," Frank tried again to remind Jack of his responsibilities to his work. "I can go ahead and fly my scheduled run, after I find out about the car, and then I'll go right on home and stick close to them both. You can't just let your business go."

April sighed. She was beginning to feel like a stray cat again, or possibly a piece of furniture, as they argued over her disposal.

"I don't care about the run!" Jack snapped now. "The business can go hang, if paying attention to it means jeopardizing April's safety!"

April's jaw dropped in amazement. "Jack, do you really mean that? I thought Wayne's World meant everything to you!"

"More than you? Not likely." Jack wrapped his long arms about her and hugged her close; suddenly April felt much less like a stray cat. "I can manage somehow, no matter what happens to Wayne's World; I can't manage if something happens to you."

"I wish you'd let Frank fly the scheduled run, though," April coaxed him. "He's right; there isn't any real reason he shouldn't do it. And I'd feel better about it if he could; please Jack, let him take the run!" She smiled up at her big brother and batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly to make him laugh.

Jack threw up his hands in mock despair. "All right, all right," he capitulated. "Frank can fly the run…after he gets his information from the investigators, that is," he added, remembering the Hardys' desire to know exactly what had happened to April's car. "You and Joe head for home, okay?"

She nodded, and was about to speak when a tap on the door interrupted her. One of the police investigators, Sergeant Williams, poked his head into the room. "Mr. Wayne, we've found pieces of a bomb, like we'd suspected. It was hooked into the system so that it would go off when the door was opened, but I believe there was a delay switch attached, although we haven't found one yet, since young Mr. Hardy was able to pull your sister away from the car after she opened the door. We aren't finished, but that's the preliminary findings." He looked over at Frank. "Satisfied now?"

Frank nodded. "Thanks, Sergeant Williams," he said. "I'd like to know the complete results later, but that's enough to go on right now."

The man grinned at him. "Give my regards to your dad," he said, and turned to go back to his work.

"There, your suspicions are vindicated." Joe got to his feet and clapped his older brother on the shoulder. "Now you go on with your flight, and I'll take April home. I'll ask Mom if she can come pick you up later, since I'll have the van – or you can grab a cab."

Jack hugged April once more, and this time she returned his embrace. "Jack, please don't do anything foolish," she whispered to him.

"Who, me?" He smiled down at her. "You go home with Joe and both of you get some more rest. I'll see you later." He held out a hand to Joe. "I'm entrusting her to you, Joe; take good care of her."

Joe nodded soberly and tightly gripped Jack's hand. The three teens filed out of the break room; Jack followed them, and went into his office cubicle. Sitting down behind his desk, he reached for the telephone and began to dial. After a moment, he spoke:

"Fenton? It's Jack…I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but – I need help."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks. Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews [Cherylann Rivers, Max2013, Sparkling Soul and a mysterious guest]; you're greatly appreciated! I know it's difficult trying to follow a story when the updates don't get announced consistently. And thank you to any and all who are reading and enjoying the story but not necessarily leaving comments.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 13

Joe Hardy made sure April Wayne was seated comfortably in the passenger seat of the boys' van, slammed the door, and walked around the back of the vehicle, to climb into the driver's seat. He buckled his seat belt and started the engine, then drove toward the parking lot's exit.

"Tired?" he asked, after a few moments, glancing over at April. She had been staring out the side window, apparently lost in thought.

"Not really," she replied. "Jittery, maybe, about what happened this morning." April scowled. "And I'm mad, of course."

Joe sighed. "April, you're not still mad at Jack, are you?"

"No, I'm not mad at Jack." The girl smiled a little. "I'm worried about Jack, but I'm not mad at him anymore. I'm mad about what happened to my car!"

"Oh." Joe nodded his understanding. "Yeah, I guess you have a right to be mad about that."

The two teens fell silent once more, but Joe's brain had clicked into high gear. _April's car…now why would there have been a bomb in April's car this morning? Deke and Ernie didn't plant it the other day, when I ran into them in the parking lot…someone could have unlocked it any time since then; why was it suddenly there today?_

"How could Deke and Ernie have known you were picking up your car today?" he mused aloud. "They had to plant that bomb some time in the last 24 hours or so…but no one knew you were picking it up this morning, except our families."

"Vanessa knew," April said, hesitantly. She didn't wish to sound as if she was accusing Vanessa of anything.

"Not until this morning," Joe responded, shaking his head. "I didn't call her until after nine o'clock. By that time, people were here, and no one could have messed with your car; it would have been noticed." He broke off. "April, Vanessa wouldn't have put a bomb in your car!"

"I know that!" she snapped. After a moment's thought, she spoke again. "Joe – don't think I'm down on Jack again, please…but Frank called him last night, and told him what we planned for today, remember? If Jack hadn't been so great to me today, and I didn't know why he was doing this, I might think he'd told Deke and Ernie himself."

"April!" Joe sounded scandalized. "Jack wouldn't ever do something like that, to put you in danger." _Oh no? What about loosening that oil line in the plane? Ahhh, stop thinking like that, you idiot; Jack thought he was endangering_ _himself_ _, not April!_

"Well, he's the only one that could have let them know," April insisted unhappily.

"No!" Joe cried, as a sudden thought struck him. "He and Frank must have told them without even knowing it! Your house must be bugged!"

"Bugged?" April giggled. "You make it sound like we need an exterminator."

"You just might, at that." Joe slowed the van and turned into a driveway; brought the vehicle to a halt and prepared to back out and return the way they had come. "April, do you feel up to doing a little exterminating?"

"What? Sure, I guess so…but what do you—"

"Let's go over to your house and see if we can find some bugs to exterminate, shall we?"

#####

Back at Wayne's World, Jason and Frank finished checking off the cargo manifests, made sure everything was secure aboard the pretty blue-and-white plane, and pushed it out of the hangar onto the tarmac.

"She's all ready, Frank," Jason grinned. "And you're due to leave, if you're going to be on schedule."

Frank nodded in affirmation. "I'm just going to check with Jack before I go," he told Jason, and walked towards Jack's office cubicle. He tapped on the half-open door and popped his head inside. "Jack? I'm ready to take off."

Jack, head bent over paperwork on his desk, looked up. "Okay, Frank. Have a safe flight. And get back as soon as you can." His dark eyes were very sober. "I'm counting on you and Joe to take care of April, you know."

"I will," Frank promised. "And we'll take care of April. But Jack – what are you going to do?" The young pilot had been evasive about his plans for disposing of Ernie and Deke, and Frank was concerned.

"Well, first I'm going to have a meeting with your dad and Roger," Jack assured the elder Hardy boy. "Don't worry, Frank, I'm not going off half-cocked with this. But I am going to finish it…one way or another."

"Jack – be careful, huh?" Frank stepped into the office and held out his hand to Jack, who clasped it warmly.

"Always, Frank – always. Now, scram, get outta here; go fly that run." Jack gave him a little push, and Frank headed for his plane, laughing.

#####

"I figure Deke and Ernie had time and opportunity to plant one or more bugging devices when they were here – after they'd half-drowned Jack; he was unconscious, and you were shut up in the closet," Joe explained. April handed him her key, letting Joe unlock the front door rather than struggling with her left hand. "They must have decided that Jack either couldn't or wouldn't tell them anything, and they hoped to pick up some information by monitoring the house and the phones."

"How can I help look?" April asked, watching as Joe scanned the walls, ceiling and floor of the entry hall with alert blue eyes.

"Try in the living room," Joe instructed, "and I'll start in Jack's den. Look behind furniture, under things, behind pictures, look everywhere for something that doesn't look like it belongs."

The two separated, and for a few minutes there were only the soft sounds of drawers being opened and closed, books being shifted, items being moved about. Joe, scowling with concentration, went from the den into the kitchen….and there he struck pay dirt.

"April! I've found one!" The younger Hardy had pried open the receiver of the phone in the kitchen, and discovered a tiny device he recognized. April hurriedly limped into the kitchen to inspect it.

"Okay, now I know what I'm looking for," she nodded. "Will they all look like that one?"

"Mmmm…more or less." Joe sounded uncertain. "Let's keep looking."

#####

At three-thirty, Jack Wayne's small office held three sober-faced men: Fenton Hardy, the DEA agent Roger Taylor, and Jack himself. Jack was speaking rapidly and earnestly to the others, as he outlined his plan.

"…so I'm going to contact Deke and Ernie again. I'll arrange to meet them and deliver the kilos of cocaine. And this time, I'll do it. I won't have them hurting April."

"Jack, you can't do something like that by yourself," Roger objected. "Those two would just as soon kill you as deal with you, after everything that's gone on in the past few days. You're going to need backup. If Fenton and I can be there too, then maybe – just maybe we can pull it off. Do you think they'd agree to meet you here? We can make the arrest right here, tonight."

"Jack—" Fenton spoke at almost the same time as the other man. "I'm not happy about this idea. It's too dangerous for you. And nothing is going to happen to April. Frank and Joe will see to that."

"Yeah, right." Jack's lip curled. "She was almost killed today, she and Joe both! I know it was my fault that she almost died in the plane accident, but Deke and Ernie came too close to finishing the job with that bomb in her car. I trust the boys with her, Fenton; you know I do. But I don't trust Deke and Ernie. They play for keeps and now they have their sights set on April. I have to give them what they want."

Roger looked up at this, slightly surprised. "But Jack, you said you didn't know what had happened to the drugs. How can you give them what you don't have?"

Fenton frowned at his former pilot. "Jack…?" There was more than a tinge of doubt in his voice, in his unspoken question.

Jack gave the detective a sharp look. "Fenton, I thought you above anyone else would know me better than that. I don't have the drugs. I don't know what happened to the stash that was in my plane, but I didn't do anything with it!"

"Jack, I wasn't accusing you of anything—" Fenton began, but Jack was rushing on.

"But whatever it takes, I have to turn over bricks of cocaine to Deke and Ernie. I need your help…both of you. But if you won't help me, I'll do it alone. I'll manage it somehow."

Roger Taylor and Mr. Hardy exchanged glances, and there was silence for a moment or two. Finally, Roger spoke.

"I think I can get you some, Jack. There should be some in the evidence room at headquarters, over in Westport. But it'll take me a few hours to do it; there are lots of hoops to jump through to obtain something like that, even for a sting operation."

"Thanks, Roger," Jack said gratefully. "I won't let you down."

"Jack, this isn't a good idea…" Fenton tried again to dissuade the young man from his proposed course of action. "You're risking yourself badly."

"I'm hoping you'll be here for backup, Fenton," Jack said with a wry grin. "I don't want to face Deke and Ernie by myself, although I'll do it if I have to."

"I'll be there, of course," the detective assured him. "And with Roger…and perhaps one of the boys…?"

"No!" Jack cut in sharply. "I don't want them involved in this. I want them guarding April. She'll be safe with them," he repeated again, rubbing his hand across his eyes distractedly.

"Jack—" Fenton said gently. "What good will it do April to be guarded within an inch of her life if something happens to you?"

#####

Joe and April had found two more "bugs," one in the telephone in Jack's bedroom, and the other in a light fixture in the upstairs hallway. "I think we'd better call Jack about this," Joe commented to April as they left the house, carefully locking the door behind them. "Jack definitely needs to know Deke and Ernie were keeping him under surveillance." He stopped as a sudden thought struck him. "Let me check one more thing." He looked up, tracing the path of the telephone wires attached to the house, then went around the side of the house and knelt down.

"What are you doing?" April inquired, following him.

"Just making sure they didn't put an overall tap on the phone lines, although that would really be overkill, with the devices in the phones." Joe grinned over his shoulder at her. "I did this a couple of months ago, on our house!" he admitted.

"Why, for pity's sake?"

"Mmmm, well, I needed to find out if somebody called Frank…" Joe let his voice trail off as he rose to his feet. "There's nothing here," he went on, brushing dirt from his jeans. "Let's go."

April shivered. "It's a gruesome thought; knowing those two slimes were listening in to everything that went on here."

"Well, not that much went on, because you were over at our house," Joe reminded her. "If Frank hadn't happened to call Jack last night, they wouldn't have planted that bomb in your car, I'll bet." _Although who knows what else they might have tried…._ The teens went down the sidewalk and got into the van, and Joe reached for his cell phone. "What's Jack's number at the airfield, April?"

She told him the numbers, and he dialed swiftly. "Jack? It's Joe Hardy – no, everything's fine! April and I just had an idea, on our way home, and we checked it out. We found out how Deke and Ernie managed to plant the bomb in April's car at just the right time….listen to this…."

When Joe ended the call, he was grinning ruefully. "Your brother has an extensive vocabulary," he commented. "And he's not very happy that his phone was tapped and the house bugged."

April flushed. "Is he blaming me for that too?" she asked defensively.

"Hey, now…" Joe started the van's engine and prepared to drive back to his home. "Of course he's not blaming you for it. He's kicking himself for not thinking of it – although why he should have thought of it, I don't know." Joe glanced at April as he maneuvered the van through the afternoon traffic. "Let's just go home and stop worrying about it for awhile, okay? You're supposed to be resting, remember?"

April nodded reluctantly. "All right, Joe. I suppose you're right." She shot him an arch look. "And I think that 'resting' part applies to you, too…and if you don't do it, I'll tell Frank on you!"

Joe opened his mouth to argue – and then shut it. He resolutely focused his attention on the road, and managed to ignore April's teasing laughter beside him.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews [Cherylann Rivers, Max2013, Sparkling Soul and a mysterious guest]; you're greatly appreciated! I know it's difficult trying to follow a story when the updates don't get announced consistently. And thank you to any and all who are reading and enjoying the story but not necessarily leaving comments.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 14

Frank landed with no difficulty and no fanfare, and grinned to himself with satisfaction. _Comes right back to you! I can see why Jack likes this business; flying like this is a real thrill!_ As he taxied the plane back to the hangar, Frank glanced at the lowering sun and frowned a little. He was running later than he had intended, for the offloading of his cargo had taken much longer than anticipated. _I hope everything is still okay with Joe and April…wish Joe had let himself be checked over by the medics; man, that scared me – I thought he'd been blown to smithereens!…. I wonder what Jack has in mind, his plan to get Deke and Ernie…wish he'd told me…._

Frank left the plane outside the hangar, and walked into the building, intending to check in with Jack before continuing with the work of cleaning up the plane and readying it for the next day's flight. Jason had evidently left already; the big room was empty. Frank's shoes made no sound on the concrete floor, and he could hear voices coming from Jack's office; apparently Roger Taylor was there ahead of him. Frank slowed down, wondering if he should interrupt the conversation.

"Here it is, Jack," Taylor was saying. "This should make Deke and Ernie's day. Their precious cocaine – for real, instead of what they got last time. Call them, and tell them you have their stuff."

Frank froze in mid-stride, holding his breath. _No…_ _no_ _!_

"I'm going to, right now," Jack replied. "I'm going to tell them I got their message, loud and clear. I was stupid to think that I could double-cross them. It's not worth April's life to make money off their stash. I'm ready to give it to them – no tricks this time."

Without conscious volition, Frank found himself dashing across the remaining distance to the office. He burst in through the half-open door, glaring at Jack, his dark eyes shooting sparks. Roger Taylor was leaning over the desk, on which he had just placed two plastic-wrapped white packages.

"Frank, what's wrong?" Jack began, half-rising to his feet. He got no further; Frank darted around the desk, seized the front of Jack's shirt, yanked him up and shoved him against the wall – hard.

"You jerk!" the elder Hardy boy shouted in fury. "Just when I thought I could trust you again, you do something like this! You had that cocaine all along, didn't you? And now you're going to deliver it to those creeps? I'm sick of you, Jack – sick and tired of all the lies! None of us deserve to be treated like this – least of all, April."

"Frank, listen—" Jack tried to speak, but Frank shook him sharply, and slammed him against the wall again. Jack gasped at the impact.

"You had the real stuff the whole time. What if Deke and Ernie had tried to drown April, instead of you? Would you have given it to them then? Or what if that bomb had killed her and Joe…would you have felt free to do what you wanted with the drugs then?"

Frank felt hands clutching at him; Roger Taylor was attempting to pull him away from Jack. "Frank, don't do this, let us explain—"

Frank abruptly released Jack and turned on Roger. "And you – you call yourself an agent for Drug Enforcement? How could you let him get away with this? Was he cutting you in on the profits as well?" He doubled up a fist, aching to hit one or the other of the two men to give release to his anger. "How dare you?" he shouted.

Jack moved forward and caught his wrist before the blow could be delivered. "Frank, listen, please listen to me!" he pleaded. "You've got this all wrong! Roger brought this from the evidence room at DEA headquarters…Frank, listen," he repeated, as the elder Hardy struggled against the restraining hands. "It's for another sting – ask your dad, if you don't believe me!"

"He's telling the truth, Frank," Roger Taylor added, releasing Frank's arms, but moving out of range of his fists. "We're setting up for another try to catch Deke and Ernie tonight. Your dad knows about it—"

"You probably lied to Dad, too!" Frank hissed, still trying to jerk free of Jack's grasp.

"No, I don't think he lied to me," a voice said from the door. All three of the room's occupants jumped, and turned toward the sound. Fenton Hardy stood in the doorway, his face very somber. "Frank, calm down, son. I think you misunderstood the situation a little."

"Dad—"

Jack let go of Frank's wrists as he felt the boy relax. "Frank, it's okay. Let Fenton explain it, huh?"

Still suspicious, Frank let himself be steered to a chair. He sat down and stared up at his father. "You can explain it, Dad?"

"Jack is telling you the truth, son. We're going to make another attempt to catch Deke and Ernie tonight. And the cocaine is here with the complete knowledge of Roger's superiors at the DEA." Fenton placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "I understand how you read it wrong, walking on it like this, but it really is legitimate."

Jack sank into his own chair behind the desk. "Frank, what's it going to take for you and Joe not to automatically assume the worst about me?" he said wistfully. "I thought we were friends."

Frank felt like a complete idiot, and very guilty. "I'm sorry, Jack. I just – I'm sorry. I guess I jumped to a wrong conclusion." He considered what his father had said. "Dad, Joe and I should be here tonight, shouldn't we? For backup?"

"No!" Jack exclaimed, before Fenton could answer. "You two promised to look after April!"

"But two more people for backup – Jack, you need us! Deke and Ernie aren't pushovers!" Frank insisted.

"You're just boys," Roger Taylor said disdainfully. "This is a job for grownups."

Out of Roger's line of sight, Fenton winced at that comment. _That was the wrong thing to say_! he thought, and waited for an explosion. To his surprise, Frank just stared at the DEA agent for a moment, and then turned away, but Fenton saw the angry hurt in his elder son's dark eyes.

"Jack, you believe Joe and I are capable of helping with this, don't you?" Frank asked now, very quietly.

"Of course you're capable," Jack replied gently. "Roger is mistaken, if he thinks you aren't. But Frank, remember – you told me today that Joe was capable of looking after April alone – and only a couple of hours later, both of them were nearly killed by a car bomb." Jack paused, recalling Joe's telephone call about his discovery at the Waynes' home. _My fault – that was_ _my_ _fault again! But this will pay them back for it…._ "Please, Frank – I really do care what happens to April. I won't be able to carry through with this plan if I'm worried about her. You and Joe protect her, and trust your dad to do the same for me."

Frank bit his lip. _You're not being fair! It wasn't Joe's fault there was a bomb in that car!_ he thought. But as he opened his mouth to utter these words, Jack was continuing with his persuasions:

"What if Deke and Ernie plan something against April, expecting me to think she's safe since they will be here with me? Some sort of retaliation for holding out on them in the first place?"

"She'll be safe at our house, with Mom," Frank protested. "They don't even know she's there."

"But they do!" Jack quickly explained Joe's recent phone call. "They must have heard me ask if she could stay at your house. Do you really want Laura in that position?" Jack didn't ask Frank the question, he directed it toward Fenton. "Trying to protect April from something those two bums dreamed up?"

Now Roger added another brick to the wall. "Jack has a point there. Deke and Ernie aren't known for playing with kid gloves. It would be just like them to try to send Jack a message by hurting April, even if they do get the drugs. It would be better if you and your brother are with her, Frank."

Frank looked from Jack to his father to the agent. All of them looked soberly back. _They're all against me…I can't argue them all down._

Roger continued his argument. "Plus, I've seen April around the air strip. She's a wild card here. I think it's safe to say that if she had any inkling of what's going on tonight, she wouldn't stop until she found a way to check things out for herself. If nothing else, you and Joe can keep her from coming here and getting herself hurt again."

Frank dropped his eyes, defeated. "All right. I don't like it, but I'll go along with it." He raised his head and stared at his father. "But if you thought convincing me was hard, just wait until you try to convince Joe."

#####

Fenton had called Laura, telling her he would be tied up with work, and not home for dinner. Frank took a taxi home, and arrived later than expected, looking grim. In their shared bathroom, the boys met briefly before dinner, to discuss the events of the afternoon.

"…we were going to come straight home, but then April and I got to wondering how Deke and Ernie knew to set that bomb so that it would be there today," Joe related to his brother. "So we went over to Jack and April's house and checked it out. There were phone taps and surveillance bugs there – they must have been planted the other day, after Jack had passed out. When you called him last night to tell him April and I were going to pick up her car—"

"They heard the whole thing," Frank interposed dejectedly. "So it was really my fault – and Jack's." He scowled darkly. "Just wait until you hear the rest…." As concisely as possible, Frank told Joe what had happened at the Wayne's World hangar, and what was planned for that night. "…I offered to have one of us – or both of us – be there for additional backup. Deke and Ernie are tough customers."

"Yeah, I know." Joe rubbed his midsection reflectively, remembering an episode in a parking lot in the not-too-distant past. "So which of us goes?"

"Neither one," Frank muttered.

"Huh?" Joe stared, blue eyes wide. "But they need us…."

"Jack wants us with April," Frank explained. He related all the arguments that Jack, Roger, and Fenton had used on him. "Jack was especially adamant that we stay with her since you told him about the bugs – he realized that Deke and Ernie would know she's here at our house. I couldn't talk them down, Joe – I tried."

To the elder boy's surprise, Joe took the news calmly, although his lips set in a grim line as he listened. He only shrugged, when Frank finished his explanation, and said, "I hope they don't find out they were wrong." He slapped Frank's shoulder and continued, "Let's go down and have dinner; we can't do anything about it now."

Accordingly, they went downstairs, where April and Laura were just setting supper on the table. Dinner conversation consisted mostly of talk between Laura and April; if either Frank or Joe was asked a direct question, he responded, but overall, both boys were quiet, lost in their own thoughts. April watched them, her eyes growing more and more suspicious as the meal progressed. She waited until Laura left the dining room to get dessert, and then addressed them both.

"Frank – Joe." She paused, waiting until two sets of eyes were fixed attentively on her face. "Look, I know something is wrong. You're giving off bad vibes all over the place. I want to know what's happened."

"It isn't anything, April," Joe attempted to reassure her. "Sometimes we get a little antsy when Dad's working on a case—"

"Stop it," she said quietly. "Something's happened, hasn't it? Does it have something to do with Jack?" She studied their faces intently. "Tell me. I heard what he said about doing something to stop Deke and Ernie, and I know he was going to ask your dad to help him. What's going on?"

Frank looked across the table at his brother, and an unspoken thought passed between the two boys: _We have to tell her…she's been lied to enough already. She has a right to know._

"Jack's setting up another sting operation for tonight," Frank said quietly. "He's going to tell them he's got their stash of cocaine, and to come to the hangar to get it. Dad and – Dad's there with him." Frank almost said "Dad and Roger" before realizing that April knew nothing of the agent's true identity.

"We wanted to go and help," Joe put in. "Or at least, one of us. But Jack wanted us to stay with you. He's afraid those creeps might still try something else against you, since the car ploy didn't work."

"Looked to me like it worked just fine," April commented wryly. "But I understand what you mean." Her forehead knotted in a scowl. "Darn Jack, anyway! What does he think he is, some kind of superhero?"

"What do you mean?" Frank asked, puzzled.

"He's doing this because he thinks he has to prove to me that he's some kind of great and perfect older brother!" she snapped bitterly. "Vengeance for Jesse Robertson! Capturing the drug-dealers and runners! Clean up the environment! Save the whales! Doesn't he know that I would rather he would be just an ordinary big brother – someone who's there in the evenings when I have a question about geometry?"

Joe, although he sympathized with April, was hard put not to laugh at her words. _Oh yeah – been there, done that!_ He looked hastily down at the tabletop to hide his dancing eyes. Luckily, Frank was speaking.

"April – Jack said something to me – he thinks that you expect him to be the perfect older brother. That's why he tries so hard to do everything – he thinks that's what you want."

"Where in the world did he get that idea?" April stared at Frank in consternation, and swallowed hard before continuing. "I never knew my mother – and it was horrible, losing Dad last year. I just want to know Jack is there when I need him – to know that I'm not going to come home one day and find out he's gone as well. I don't expect him to be perfect – I just expect him to be there!" Sudden defiance sparked in April's hazel eyes. "I'm not going to sit here and wait for you – or someone else – to come back and tell me that Jack's gone now, too. If there's anything I can do to help him, I'm going to do it."

"There isn't anything you can do," Joe reminded her. "Jack doesn't want you to be in danger."

"But I don't want to just wait! " she wailed.

At that moment, Laura Hardy walked back into the room. "I heard what you were saying," she said quietly. "It's one of the hardest things in the world, April." Laura sat down next to April and encircled her with a comforting arm. "It's never easy for me to watch Fenton or the boys put themselves in danger; never knowing if someone is going to knock on the door, or I'll get a telephone call – and hear that they're never coming home again. But sometimes, April – sometimes you just have to trust the ones you love to come back."

April's eyes were brimming with tears as she listened to Laura's words. Frank felt his throat constrict with emotion, and when he glanced over at Joe, he saw his younger brother's eyes were tightly shut, and he was biting his lip. _Mom hardly ever says anything like that…we never thought about how she might feel…._

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hardy," April whispered. "I'll…wait… I'll wait for Jack to come back."

#####

In the darkness of the Wayne's World hangar, Fenton Hardy crouched behind stacked crates. He could see light streaming from Jack Wayne's office cubicle through the open door; it cast deep shadows around him. Although he could not see Roger Taylor, he knew the agent was somewhere across the room, also concealed from view.

If anyone had been watching Jack, that person would have assumed the pilot was talking to himself as he shuffled papers on his desk…but Fenton Hardy knew differently. Jack wasn't talking to himself; he was talking to his companions, by way of the transmitter he wore concealed under his jacket. Fenton and Roger waited in the dimness, listening to the quiet monologue.

"….Fenton, I know I'm doing the right thing here…but I have to admit, I'm a little nervous. I trust you and Roger to back me up, but I know how risky all this is….the code phrase is 'it's been a pleasure doing business with you,' right? See, I remember! Fenton, listen up here – I just want you to know that if things go down wrong, I've always appreciated and valued our friendship. Thanks for being here for me in this. Do me a favor, though, would you? If something happens, and I don't make it, make sure April knows how much I love her…and make sure she's all right."

The detective found himself swallowing hard as he listened to Jack's words. He wished he could say something to comfort and encourage his friend, but he was only wearing a receiver; Jack was the only one who could transmit now.

"Just so you know, Fenton…I'm not afraid to die. If I have to die to bring down Deke and Ernie, I'm prepared for that. But I'm scared to leave April alone. She's lost so much already – too much for a kid to lose. She shouldn't have to go through this as well. Tell her for me – tell her she's a great kid, and she's going to make Mom and Dad – and me – so proud. I already am so proud of her…. If the worst happens, tell her I'm sorry for everything I've put her through the past couple of months." Jack stopped speaking for a moment, and cleared his throat, then went on. "I know she sometimes thinks I resent having to give up things, so that I can look after her, but I don't – I never have. Tell her that for me, Fenton…that as much as I wish Dad was still here, I never ever thought twice about being there for her."

Fenton raised his hand and dashed tears from his eyes. _Dear God! I wish there was someone I could tell these things to – that in the event of something happening to me on a case…if I never got to tell Laura goodbye, and how much I love her – to tell Frank and Joe how proud they've made me…._

In the darkness, a blunt object descended swiftly, and struck Fenton Hardy on the back of the head. A bolt of searing pain shot through his skull and the detective sank to his knees, then crumpled to the floor, without uttering a sound. As blackness closed over him, he heard Jack's final words: "But what am I worrying about? I know you aren't going to let anything happen to me…."


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews [Max2013, Cherylann, Sparkling Soul]; you're greatly appreciated! I know it's difficult trying to follow a story when the updates don't get announced. And thank you to those who are reading and enjoying even if not providing commentary! You're all rare gems!

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 15

Jack Wayne tensed as he heard the door to the hangar being opened, and two sets of footsteps approaching his office. He sat down in his swivel chair, and attempted to control his emotions. He was apprehensive – no, Jack was scared – and his mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton balls. "Look alive out there, here they come," he murmured.

"Well, Mr. Wayne, so you've finally come to your senses, hmm?" Small, mean-eyed Ernie stood in the doorway, the inevitable cigar clenched between his teeth. Big, burly Deke loomed over his shoulder.

"Hello Ernie…Deke," the pilot greeted them quietly. The two walked into the office and shut the door behind them.

"Looks like you had a little fire out in your parking lot, Wayne," Deke rumbled. "Lots of rubble out there – looked like a car fire, didn't it, Ernie?" He eyed Jack menacingly. "Somebody might have been killed in that, mightn't they?"

"You devil," Jack gritted. "If anything had happened to my little sister because of that, you wouldn't be here now – you'd be at the morgue. I'd have seen to that personally."

Ernie snorted derisively. "Talk's cheap, Wayne. But we're here to get what's rightfully ours." He reached into his pocket, and Jack stiffened, but the only thing Ernie produced was a small penknife. He opened a blade, and proceeded to stick it into one of the white blocks on Jack's desk. When he pulled it out, a bit of residue stuck to the blade, and he removed his cigar from his mouth to touch his tongue to it.

"Okay, well, at least it's not baby powder; I'll have to assume it's real," he murmured to his companion, and opened the briefcase Deke handed him. "Now, Wayne," he continued, as he packed the bricks into the case, "we have one more thing we'd like you to do for us – and then you'll never have to see us again."

"I'm through with you right now, Ernie. You have what you came for. We're quits, as of now. It's been a pleasure doing business with you – but it's over."

Ernie smiled evilly. "You know, Wayne, I never figured you for stupid, but I guess I was wrong. Because only someone who was really stupid would ever try to double-cross us."

 _Double-cross them – uh-oh, what do they mean? Is he referring to what happened before? Did they hear something I said at home, with the – oh no, do they have this office bugged too? Fenton, Roger, where the hell are you guys?_ _Get in here_ _!_ Jack felt sweat break out on his forehead, but he attempted to look nonchalant and unconcerned.

"Double-cross you? You mean what I did before?" Jack attempted a weak smile, which faded as the two men suddenly both reached into their coats and produced ugly-looking handguns. "Hey, what's with the guns?" he went on, raising his voice slightly to make sure the transmitter was picking up his words. "I gave you the coke. We're square, right? Sure, I was dumb to think I could get away with cheating you – but I made good on it. Right? Now like I said, it was a pleasure doing business with you, but I can't do this anymore."

"We're not talking about before," Deke growled. "We're talking about tonight."

 _Tonight? Then they do have the place wired…. Oh no…Fenton – Roger – where_ _are_ _you?_

"I thought that bomb would have showed you we meant business, Wayne," Ernie said. "You should have been smart enough not to try anything after that. But all this time, you were working with the DEA, trying to bring us down. Now how stupid is that? You don't think we're going to let you get away with something like that, do you?"

Jack forced a laugh. "What makes you think I'm working for the DEA? I'm a pilot, do I look like an undercover agent to you?"

Ernie reached into his pocket with his free hand and brandished a cell phone for a moment. "A little birdie told me, Wayne. A real informative birdie…one that was nice enough to warn us that you were double-crossing us for a third time – and that we ought to make alternate transportation plans out of here."

"Fortunately, we happen to know a good pilot," Deke put in, grinning at Jack's alarmed expression. "Luckily for you, we can still make good money selling our stuff down in Mexico."

Jack looked at them in horror. "You want to fly all the way to Mexico in a prop job?"

"Nah," Ernie took over again, "we can take a commercial flight to Mexico – but we do need to get out of the country fast…as in tonight. Deke, what do you think about Toronto this time of year?"

"I like Toronto just fine," Deke rumbled approvingly. "Hey, can we take in a baseball game while we're there?"

Ernie cast his partner a disgusted look. "Idiot, we aren't going to have time to watch a stupid baseball game. Besides, they aren't even playing right now. The Raptors are playing basketball, not the Blue Jays." He gestured toward Jack with his gun. "Come on, Wayne, let's go. We're taking off for Canada – right now."

"Guys – Ernie, I can't just walk out and take off – I have to file a flight plan with the tower…the planes aren't fueled, or anything—"

"File a flight plan right now," Ernie prodded, shifting his cigar. "File it for somewhere close – like New Jersey. Once you're in the air, you can change direction."

Jack reached slowly for the telephone and began punching buttons. "But the fuel…"

"Nice try, but I already checked the planes when we got here," Deke informed him. "They're both full."

"Uh – I – uh – I don't have my toothbrush with me." Jack made a feeble attempt at humor. "This will be an overnight flight, and my dentist says I should always brush—"

Deke shoved his gun into a pocket and balled up his fists. "Problem easily solved. You won't need to brush your teeth if I knock them out, will you?"

"Okay, okay, simmer down!" Jack mentally groaned. _This isn't working…._ He cleared his throat as the control tower responded to his call, and began filing a fictitious flight plan in a mechanical voice. When he hung up, he sat motionless at the desk, awaiting further instructions.

"Let's go!" Ernie's voice was sharp, and he motioned with the gun for emphasis. Jack slowly rose to his feet. He stood beside the desk, in front of the little side table, and clasped his hands behind him.

"Have you thought about where exactly you want me to take you?" he asked cautiously. "The big international airport at Toronto will be more likely to have drug-sniffing dogs, and more extensive x-ray equipment. Were you just going to keep that—" he indicated the briefcase with a nod, "in your carry-on luggage? They'll spot it in a minute."

Deke and Ernie exchanged glances; for the first time Ernie looked a bit worried. "Going to give us advice, or something?" the little man sneered.

"Well…I don't want to be indicted for helping you, remember, and if you're caught, I'm caught too." Jack didn't have to fake it to make his voice quiver with fear. "If I take you to the Toronto Island Airport, you'll have a better chance of pulling this thing off. I've flown into there before; I'm familiar with it." He smiled disarmingly. _I'm lying through my teeth here; believe what I'm telling you Deke! Believe me, Ernie!_

"Ah, okay," Ernie grunted. "Toronto Island Airport it is. As long as we can book a flight to Mexico from there…. Let's go, for Pete's sake!"

"Can I get some coffee to take with me?" Jack made one more request, indicating the employee lounge across the hallway from his office. "You don't want me getting sleepy while I'm flying. I'll need to get my thermos out of the plane to fill it…."

"Okay, okay, go on. Deke, come on, get in the plane. We'll be right there." He gestured toward Jack. "No funny business; I'm watching you every step."

Jack took a step back, apparently made nervous by Ernie's gun. His fingers closed over a familiar plastic-coated object on the little table; he slid it flat against his palm and held his hand against his leg as he stepped forward. Deke exited the office, and Ernie stepped outside the door, the gun trained on Jack. The young pilot approached the doorway and snapped off the fluorescent ceiling panel as he went out; in the suddenly-dimmed light, neither Ernie nor Deke noticed a small object fall to the floor of the office.

 _Fenton, old buddy – what happened? Where are you? Where's Roger? It was supposed to work out so slick…. How did this happen…? April – goodbye, little sister…._

#####

"Fenton – Fenton, can you hear me?"

Fenton Hardy groaned. He opened his eyes a slit, and immediately wished he hadn't. Too-bright light assaulted his optic nerves, and he realized he had a pounding headache emanating from the back of his head.

"Fenton?"

"Don't…shout," the detective rasped, holding his head. He realized that Roger Taylor was bending over him. "What happened?" He struggled up on his elbows, wincing.

"Someone kayoed me," the agent responded. He turned his head slightly, and Mr. Hardy saw a red mark on his temple. "Looks like they got you too. We've got trouble, Fenton – Jack is gone, the cocaine's gone, and one of the planes is gone. I don't know if Wayne triple-crossed all of us, and he's fled along with his accomplices, or if he's been hijacked. Either way, it's bad."

"Jack wouldn't have gone with them unless he was forced to it," Fenton declared. He allowed Taylor to assist him to his feet, and clung to the shorter man's shoulder for a moment, letting a wave of dizziness wash over him and dissipate.

"I need to contact my superiors about this," Roger said. "And I'll check with the control tower; it isn't likely that Wayne would file a flight plan as to where he's going, but it won't hurt to check." He steadied Fenton, concerned. "Maybe you'd better sit down for a bit…come on, let's go into Jack's office." He started toward the doorway, holding Fenton's arm.

"It's all right, Roger, I can make it." The detective waved him off. "You go ahead and check with the tower."

"Well, if you're sure you're all right…." The other man looked hesitant, but was already heading toward the outside door. "I'm going to go over there in person; if I flash my badge, I can get a printout of the filed flight plan." He bared his teeth in a smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You take it easy for a few minutes."

"I will," Fenton assured him. He watched Roger exit the hangar, then moved again toward Jack's office. _I've got to call the boys, and tell them what's happened – oh, Lord, I'm never going to hear the end of_ _this_ _! Frank insisted that we needed them here, and oh, how right he was!_ He reached for the light switch, flipped it on, and started into the cubicle. His foot came down on something slick, and skidded slightly; looking down, Fenton saw it was a plastic-coated baseball card. He frowned and bent to pick it up, grimacing as the change in position caused his head to throb. _This is usually on that little table…how did it get here?_ He staggered toward Jack's desk chair and practically fell into it, reaching for the telephone as he did so.

At the Hardy home, Frank and Joe were sprawled lazily on the couch in the family room, watching television. April was upstairs; Laura was helping the girl wash her long hair, something that was almost impossible for April to do by herself with her arm in a cast.

"Why haven't we heard anything from Dad and Jack?" Joe fretted, looking at the clock. "It's way past nine o'clock!"

"I know," his brother responded. "I'm worried too, but there's nothing we can do except wait."

"I hate waiting!" Joe growled.

"You and me both, little brother," Frank agreed. "—but…" He was interrupted by the muted ring of the telephone. "There, that must be Jack, or Dad!" He leaped to his feet to grab the phone. "Hardy residence!"

Almost immediately, an alarmed expression crossed the boy's face. "Dad? What's happened? What's wrong, you sound – what?" At Frank's near-shout, Joe sat bolt upright, listening tensely to the one-sided conversation. "Oh, no….Yeah, I can….Okay, we're on our way." He punched the _off_ button and dropped the phone onto the table. "Come on, we've got to get to the airfield! Apparently Jack's been hijacked; Dad and Roger Taylor were knocked out, and Dad says he wants me there, to pilot…he's hoping to get a line on where they might have headed, and use the other plane—"

Joe snatched the TV guide from the couch and flung it violently across the room, where it narrowly missed a vase of flowers. "I KNEW this was going to happen!" he yelled furiously. "I knew we should have been there!" He reached for a tiny glass figurine on a side table, preparing to hurl it after the magazine, but Frank seized his arm.

"Are you crazy? Don't throw that; it's one of Mom's favorites!" He shook Joe's arm sharply. "Put it down, Joe; having a tantrum isn't going to help anything right now!"

Reluctantly, the younger boy set down the little decoration. "Sorry," he muttered, then took a deep breath. "I'm okay now; let's go."

"Go where?" a voice demanded. Both boys jumped and turned and beheld April Wayne, her damp, tawny hair cascading around her shoulders. "What's wrong? Why is Joe so upset?"

"April—" Frank began, then paused. _How can I tell her?_

"Something's happened at the airstrip, hasn't it?" the girl asked. She limped across the room to confront the elder boy. "Tell me, Frank. Don't lie about it."

"Someone knocked out Dad, and Jack and one of the planes are gone," Frank stated, bluntly. "Dad thinks he's been forced to fly Deke and Ernie somewhere."

April turned so white that Frank made a hasty move to catch her, certain she was about to faint. "I knew it," she whispered. "I knew something bad was going to happen. Jack's never coming back…"

"No, don't say that!" Joe hurried to her side and put his arm about her. "It'll be okay—"

She shrugged off his arm. "Why are we just standing around? We have to get to the airfield; come on!" April turned toward the door, but found herself restrained by both boys. "Let go of me!"

"April, you can't go with us. It's too dangerous. We're going to have to pursue them, and you can't go along. Deke and Ernie are armed and definitely dangerous…and you can't stay by yourself at the hangar. That's not exactly safe—" Frank used every ounce of persuasion he possessed, trying to convince her, but knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"I've already encountered those two, and I don't care how dangerous it is. I'm going to help find Jack," she snapped, still struggling against them.

"April, listen to me…the last thing Jack would want us to do is let you put your life in jeopardy!" Frank tried again. "Please, do as I ask, and stay here with Mom. I promise, we'll call you as soon as we know something….anything."

Now Joe spoke up. "April, I'm sorry, but Frank's right. It's too dangerous, and you are not coming with us. Now you can either stand there and argue with us, or you can let us go. Just remember, the longer we stay here arguing with you, the more time we are losing…time better spent looking for Jack." _Oh jeez, how can I do this to her? Jack's all she has left; of course she wants to go look for him! I'd be the same way, if it was Frank…April, I'm sorry, kiddo, I'm sorry…._

April glared mutinously at them, but stopped trying to twist away. "All right," she whispered. "But you have to promise me, you'll call – whether you know anything or not…you have to keep calling me, and telling me what's happening. Promise me, Joe – do you promise?"

He nodded reassuringly. "I promise."

Frank was already striding toward the door. "Come on, we've lost valuable time already!" he snapped over his shoulder. Joe gave April a reassuring pat on the arm, and followed his older brother, but turned to make a last request.

"April, tell Mom what happened, okay? And where we've gone?"

She nodded mutely, and watched them leave the room.

A few seconds later, the boys leaped into the van, Joe behind the wheel. He started the engine, and was just putting it into reverse when Frank stopped him.

"Wait! Here comes April again—"

"Damn it, she can't come with us!" Joe growled, but hastily put the van in Park and rolled down the window.

"Your dad's on the phone again!" the girl cried. "Come back in and talk to him!"

Joe and Frank flung themselves out of the vehicle and raced into the house. Frank grabbed up the dangling receiver of the kitchen wall phone. "Dad?"

"Frank, I think I may have a clue here. I found something on the floor of Jack's office – that mounted baseball card of the Toronto Blue Jays baseball player. I can't believe I didn't think about its significance when I called before – blame it on the headache, I guess. There's no logical reason for that card to be where I found it, unless Jack dropped it there – it's a slim lead, but I don't have anything else to go on. Look in the address book in the top left drawer of my desk in the den – I want the telephone number of the Toronto chief of police; it should be cross-filed under both his name – Julian Fantino – and 'Toronto'. I'll call him and alert him to the situation; perhaps we can intercept Jack's plane when it lands."

Frank breathlessly transmitted the instructions to Joe, who raced to the den and returned holding the book. He feverishly ruffled through the pages, pouncing on the entry when he found it. Frank relayed the number to his father, then added: "We're on our way, Dad; we'll be there as fast as we can." He slammed the receiver back into place, and headed out the door once more.

April was nowhere in sight when the boys reached the van; apparently she had gone back upstairs while they were on the telephone with Fenton. Once more, Joe took his place behind the wheel, and shoved the vehicle into reverse. He backed down the driveway into the street, and peeled out in a fashion that would have brought sharp reprimands from either or both of his parents. Frank rolled his eyes, but gripped the armrest and held his tongue silent.

A few blocks down the street, Frank snapped his fingers. "I know where they're going, Joe! They're heading towards Toronto, all right, but not the main airport! They'll fly into Toronto Island Airport; that's why Jack left that card! He knew I'd remember him telling me about it." He briefly related the story Jack had told him. "Trust Jack to find a way to leave us a clue!" he said admiringly.

"You're probably right," Joe grunted. He spun the steering wheel as they approached an intersection. At the rate of speed they were traveling, the van couldn't keep all four tires on the pavement, and for a few seconds, they were only riding on two wheels.

"Joe!" Frank yelped in protest, and grabbed again for a handhold as the van slammed back onto four wheels. The elder boy glared at his brother in the dim light from the instrument panel. "Driving like a maniac isn't going to help any if you crash us on the way there—"

Joe took another turn, and the camping equipment they had left in the van skidded across the back deck. A sudden, unexpected cry of protest erupted from the rear: "Owwwww!"

Joe slammed on the brakes, and brought the vehicle to a screeching halt. He steered over to the parking strip, stopped again, and cut the engine, then flipped the dome lights on. "What the heck?"

Frank was already squeezing between the front seats, and dragging their tent and sleeping bags off…someone. "April," he said grimly.

Joe groaned. "Noooooo!"

The girl sat up, holding her ribs with her good arm. "You didn't have to throw me around like that!" she accused.

"April, why did you do this?" Frank shouted. "You told us you were going to stay home! You were safe there! Now what are we supposed to do – leave you beside the road? We don't have time to go back!"

"I have to go," she said stubbornly. "Drive, Joe; you're wasting time."

"April, you can't go!" Joe cried. "I know you want to, but—"

She stared at them with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Don't you understand? My worst nightmare is coming true…I'm going to lose Jack, just like I lost Dad – and Mom, so long ago." She gulped. "I can't stay at home and wait for you to come back and tell me I'm all alone in the world. If something bad happens to Jack, I want to be there, to apologize to him for not trusting him enough, for making his life harder this last year. I have to be with him…. I've got to go!"

The boys exchanged glances. They had no arguments to make that would even come close to changing April's mind, or swaying her determination.

"Okay…" Joe turned the motor on and waited while Frank resumed his seat. "You can come – as far as the airfield, anyway. Get in that middle seat and buckle up, for Pete's sake." He switched off the inside light and shoved the van into gear once again. "It'll be okay, April. We'll get there in time to make sure nothing bad happens to Jack."

His bright, reassuring words eased some of the abject terror from April's hazel eyes as she took her seat and obediently fastened her seat belt. It was fortunate that April wasn't clairvoyant, for Joe's thoughts didn't follow the same optimistic path as his spoken words. He couldn't bring himself to admit that he was just as scared as she was. There was no way they would reach Toronto in time to save Jack if Deke and Ernie were set on killing him.

 _What if all we find when we get there is Jack's lifeless body?_ Joe tried to shake off that grim image. He couldn't let April see his fear. _Please, Lord,_ he prayed silently. _Let us get there in time…_


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews; you're greatly appreciated! I know it's difficult trying to follow a story when the updates don't get announced. And thank you to any and all who are reading even if you don't comment.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 16

When Joe pulled the Hardys' van up next to the Wayne's World hangar, he had barely turned the key to shut off the engine when April was opening the sliding door and starting to scoot out. Frank hastily unbuckled his seat belt and leaped from the passenger seat to catch her arm and halt her progress.

"Hey, hey – slow down," he cautioned her. "Dad's going to have a fit when he sees you here as it is; don't go busting in there like a fire brigade." Now joined by Joe, the teens hurried into the building together.

Fenton was sitting at Jack's desk, holding the mounted baseball card in his hand. He looked up as Frank, Joe and April appeared in the doorway, and his forehead knotted in an exasperated frown.

"Boys, how could you bring April along? This is too dangerous for her. You should have left her at home, with your mother." He winced as he spoke, and rubbed the back of his head.

"Dad, are you all right?" Both boys moved quickly to examine their father's injury.

"I'll live," Mr. Hardy grunted, "but don't expect me to be good company for a while. Why did you bring April?" he demanded again.

"It's not their fault, Mr. Hardy," April said bravely, stepping forward. "I hid in the van; they didn't know I was there until it was too late to go back."

The detective couldn't quite restrain an amused snort, despite his irritation. "Well, the damage is done now, I suppose." He closed his eyes momentarily, as Frank, who had made a hasty detour into the restroom to soak a towel in cold water, pressed the compress against the bump on the back of his head.

"Dad, I think I know where Jack's going!" Frank said then. He quickly told Fenton the story Jack had related; April nodded her agreement as Frank spoke.

"I've heard Jack tell that story too," she said when Frank paused, "and Toronto Island Airport is definitely the place he landed. He has to have dropped that card there to give us a lead."

Fenton's mouth twitched. "Give us a lead?" he murmured. "Well, it's better than nothing at all." He laid his hands on the desk top and pushed himself to his feet. "Frank, can you fly that plane out there? We need to head for Toronto."

Frank nodded. "I can fly it," he assured his father. Then he stopped and looked down at April. "Maybe you could go over to the main airport, and wait there?"

"Not a chance!" she said defiantly. "I'm going with you, and there's nothing you can do or say to make me change my mind."

Frank glanced at his father, who shrugged and smiled. "Okay," he sighed. "okay…."

The four of them hurried to Jesse Robertson's green-and-gold plane, pushed it outside the hangar, and climbed aboard; Joe and Fenton in the rear seats, Frank and April in the pilot's and co-pilot's chairs. Frank began a speedy check-off of the instrumentation, while April reached for the radio and contacted the tower, requesting permission for immediate takeoff.

A few minutes later, the craft lifted into the air, and Frank couldn't help a rush of elation as he felt the smooth response of the controls. "This is a nice plane," he said to April, who nodded in agreement. "Lots of oomph." He checked the on-board computer for course settings, and settled back into his seat. "How fast can I push her?"

"Top speed is just under 400 KPH," she replied. "We might get lucky and catch a tailwind."

Fifteen minutes into the flight, Joe slapped himself in the head. "I just thought of something! April, did you have a chance to tell Mom where we were going?"

She turned, dismay evident on her piquant face. "No! The phone rang again, and – oh, no…!"

Joe fished in his pocket and withdrew his cell phone, which he handed to his father. "Dad, give Mom a call before it gets any later – if you call, maybe she'll only maim us, instead of murdering us!"

After concluding his conversation with his wife, Fenton spoke again from the rear. "I got hold of Julian Fantino, the Toronto police chief, and told him what we thought was happening," he said. "He's going to contact the Special Investigation Services – that's the Canadian version of the DEA – and have people at both airports, just in case. I gave him a description of Jack's plane, April, and found the ID number on some papers; they know what they're watching for." He reached out and patted her shoulder comfortingly. "Jack will be all right, my dear."

She nodded, but didn't turn her head or speak. Frank glanced sideways, and saw tears sliding down her cheeks. _Hang in there, little girl…we won't let the nightmare come true if there's any way we can prevent it!._

#####

 _This is worse than a nightmare!_ Jack Wayne admitted silently as the small plane settled into its cruising altitude. He leaned back in his seat, his safety belt fastened snugly across his waist. He hated to admit it, but that seat belt hadn't always been something he thought about using. Years of flying had made him complacent where certain safety procedures were concerned. But after seeing the wreckage from April's crash, Jack had vowed never to fly without his seat belt again.

As he piloted the plane, his mind was only partly occupied by the tasks at hand; the rest of it was frantically working out a plan to ensure his rescue. He didn't have a clue what had happened to Fenton and Roger; he could only hope the two men were okay. Apart from that concern, there was nothing he could do for them at that moment, and they certainly weren't there to help _him_. It was up to him to save himself.

"How much further 'til we get there?" Ernie asked suddenly. Jack glanced over at the portly drug dealer. Ernie looked extremely uncomfortable, and was chewing almost frantically on the end of his cigar. Only Jack's forceful admonishment had prevented Ernie from lighting it earlier.

"About another half hour to an hour. Sit back and enjoy the scenery, why don't you? You remind me too much of a little kid on a long trip, with the 'how much further' questions."

"I hate small planes," Ernie grumbled petulantly. "It's like you can feel every bump. Give me a good old commercial liner where you can't even tell you are in the air. That, or better yet, a nice on-the-ground vehicle."

 _Feel every little bump, huh?_ In the dim lights glowing from the instrument panel, Jack's lips twisted into a grin, and he turned his head to the side, to hide his face from Ernie's view. An idea was slowly forming in his mind. He recalled the conversation with Frank, the other day, when he had revealed the prank he used to play on Joe, when he was trying – unsuccessfully, in Joe's case – to teach the boys to fly. If he could manage to make Joe sick, could he do the same with Ernie now? _Ernie, old boy, you ain't seen nothin' yet…. Hang on to your dinners, gentlemen; you are in for the ride of your miserable lives!_

"Well, don't complain to me," Jack retorted aloud. "This wasn't my idea at all, remember? I'd rather be home in bed right now."

Ernie toyed with his revolver. "We can put you to sleep permanently, if you want."

"Were you intending on flying the plane to Toronto, then? If you shoot me, the plane will crash and you'll die too. Smart plan, Ernie," Jack muttered. He gently feathered the controls, subtly causing the plane to hiccup along its prescribed path. A smile once more touched his lips at the immediate reaction inside the plane.

Deke, who had not worn his safety belt, tumbled out of his seat. Ernie immediately turned an interesting shade of chartreuse, but managed to stay in his seat. Before either of them could recover, Jack nudged the controls again, causing the plane to bump once more.

"What the…What are you doing, Wayne?" Ernie demanded, gripping the revolver.

Jack laughed shortly. "Me? I'm flying the plane. We're hitting some turbulence. Sorry about that."

"Can't you avoid it?" Ernie grumbled.

"Oh sure, I'll just swerve the next time I see an air pocket coming up." Jack's tone was sarcastic. "This is a plane, not a car; it's not like there are visible potholes in the sky that you can avoid. These air pockets are a fact of life at this altitude, especially in the face of an approaching storm front." Jack could see dark, ominous clouds amassing, but they would not be a true irritation to flying for several more hours – but Deke and Ernie didn't need to know that. "In fact, I'm surprised we aren't being bounced around more."

"Can't you fly higher? I've heard of pilots flying above storms," Deke asked as he finally resettled himself in his seat, this time fastening his seat restraint.

Jack was inwardly smiling. The two hoods were completely buying what he was saying. "We could, but we aren't on an approved flight plan. What do you think flight plans are for – telling the airport where we are going?"

"Well, yeah," Deke admitted. "Aren't they?"

"That's part of it, sure, but at the same time, it's a way to ensure that two planes aren't on a collision course. At this altitude, we don't have to worry about commercial flights, but if I go higher to avoid the storm, who knows? Do you really want to play 'chicken' with a 747?" Jack had to choke back a laugh as both Deke and Ernie paled and shook their heads. Ernie visibly swallowed hard, his Adam's apple nervously bobbing up and down.

"Just get us there as quick as you can!" he commanded.

"Yes, sir." Jack gave a mock salute before he turned his attention back to the controls. He wished for a moment that it was light outside, so that he could hide the mischievous twinkle he knew had to be in his dark eyes behind his aviator sunglasses. Now that he realized he could get to Ernie by fudging the controls, Jack knew what he had to do. _Turbulence, air pockets, wind shear…oh, yes, I think we can manage all of those things._

After the tenth "air pocket" the plane supposedly hit, Jack was certain both Ernie and Deke were ready for a bathroom. In fact, Jack himself felt mildly queasy, and he was accustomed to flying through weather that caused rougher turbulence than he was causing. He figured with him, it had more to do with the laughter he was bottling up inside. Despite the danger he was in, Jack Wayne was having a blast!

"If I'm going to land, I'll have to radio the tower. Unless you'd rather I just circled the airfield for a while," he said calmly, now.

Ernie all but covered his mouth to keep from vomiting. His hand wasn't even on the revolver any more. He motioned for Jack to continue. "Go ahead, but no tricks."

Jack smiled and keyed his radio. "November Papa Charlie 218 to Toronto Island Tower. Requesting permission to land on a heading of 349 716."

" _Toronto Island Tower to 218, we have you on radar. You've been bouncing around up there; is there trouble?"_

Jack glanced over at Ernie. "Negative, Tower, just a bit of turbulence. Am I cleared for landing?"

" _Affirmative, 218, continue on your current approach. You are cleared for Runway 6."_

Jack lowered his landing gear as he planned his escape. He had a feeling both his passengers would be looking for the nearest restroom as soon as they were on the ground. The last thing that would be on their minds at that time would be him fighting back. He just had to bide his time until he landed.

Sure enough, as soon as the wheels gave a little bounce indicating the plane was on the ground, Ernie was out of his seat. Deke, apparently remembering his tumble earlier, remained seated and belted in until the plane finished taxiing down the runway.

"Welcome to Canada, gentlemen," Jack quipped sardonically. "Let me get the door and you can feel free to kiss the ground."

Ernie ignored the joke and waited impatiently for Jack to open the door. The three men exited the plane and the two drug dealers immediately began looking for the nearest building that might house a restroom. Jack was swift to take advantage of the situation; he grabbed Ernie's briefcase and swung it directly in Deke's face. The tall man dropped to his knees with an inarticulate howl, holding his bleeding nose. Jack, not reacting to his victory, quickly kicked out at Ernie, and knocked the gun out of his hand.

Dimly, he heard footsteps rapidly approaching, but he ignored them, and concentrated on making sure Ernie and Deke wouldn't get away. He sent a right upper cross into Ernie's jaw, and the little man staggered back, but before Jack could follow up his advantage, they were converged upon by uniformed police officers.

"Freeze!" the lead officer snapped out, but Jack assumed they were talking to the two drug dealers. He took a step toward the officers.

"No need to worry, guys, I took care of…" Jack didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, as he was suddenly tackled by one of the policemen, and thrown violently to the tarmac. His head bounced sharply off the concrete as he landed, and the world spun. He tried to push himself free so that he could explain that _he_ wasn't the bad guy in all this, but the move was apparently considered a threatening one. The officer who had taken him down suddenly presented a canister of pepper spray, and sprayed it directly into Jack's face.

His eyes burning and his head spinning from hitting the concrete, Jack groaned. He could feel consciousness slowly slipping away from him. As his vision dimmed and darkness enveloped him, he heard a sharp male voice admonishing someone: "Harshaw, you fool, you just knocked out the hijack victim we were asked to rescue."

#####

"November Echo Charlie 973 to Toronto Island Tower requesting permission to land on approach 349 716." Frank's calm voice belied the nervousness he'd felt the entire flight from Bayport to Toronto. Would they land and find Jack okay, and Deke and Ernie in custody? Or had the two drug dealers escaped somehow, wounding or even killing Jack in the process?

" _Tower to 973, you are cleared for Runway 4. Police Chief Fantino is waiting for you in Administration Building 2."_

"Copy that, Tower." Frank looked back at his dad, then to Joe – and finally to April, who was sitting bolt upright in her seat, every muscle taut. Nobody voiced his or her concerns at that point. It was useless, and the Hardys all realized April was a basket case already. Frank returned his sole attention back to landing the plane safely.

As soon as the plane was fully on the ground and Frank had taxied close to the buildings, he turned off the engines, and leaped out. He hurried around the plane and opened the door on the other side, motioning for April to exit and holding up a hand to assist her. She slid onto the ground, closely followed by Fenton; Joe had gotten out Frank's side. They expected her to dash headlong for the building, but suddenly the teenage girl hesitated. She stood immobile for a long time, her body shaking slightly. Then she turned to the three men accompanying her.

"What if it's bad news? I know I was the one who insisted that I come – but now I'm scared! What do I do if Jack's hurt – or worse?"

Joe squeezed her good arm reassuringly. "Jack will be fine, April. You'll see. Come on, let's go find him." He put his arm about her and urged her forward.

Joe kept his arm around her as Fenton led the way to the administration building where the police chief was waiting for them. A uniformed officer smiled at them as they entered, and escorted them to an office cubicle. April hesitated in following Joe in, as she saw that Jack was not present in the room.

"Fenton, it's good to see you again." A tall distinguished-looking man with piercing blue eyes and dark hair silvered at the temples extended his hand to Mr. Hardy. "And these must be your sons?"

"Yes, Julian, this is my eldest, Frank, and this is Joe. Boys, may I present Chief Fantino." Both Frank and Joe shook hands with the chief. "And this young lady is April Wayne," Fenton added. The police chief took her hand and bowed slightly.

"It's nice to meet both of you, and you, Miss Wayne. You'll all be happy to hear that the hijackers are in custody, and we have the drugs they were carrying."

"Where's Jack? Where's my brother?" April's voice was barely more than a muted quiver.

Fantino looked sheepish. "I'm afraid there was a slight complication when we made the arrest. One of my officers thought Mr. Wayne might be one of the hijackers. He got a little – er – overzealous. Your brother is currently being examined by a doctor."

April let out a strangled cry and twisted into Joe's reassuring embrace. "I knew it! I just knew something was going to happen to Jack! What am I going to do if I lose him, just like I lost Mom and Dad?" She bowed her head against Joe's chest and cried heart-brokenly.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews; you're greatly appreciated! And thank you to any who have read and enjoyed, even if you didn't post commentary.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 17

A voice spoke from the doorway; hoarse and rasping, but still recognizable:

"Someone's going to have to try harder than that, for you to lose me, sis!"

April caught her breath with a gasp and whirled about, still holding onto Joe. "Jack! Oh Jack—" She stumbled across the room and flung herself against him, laughing and crying at the same time. "You're all right – I thought you were – thought you'd been—" She buried her face against his jacket as he hugged her to him. "I'm sorry," her muffled voice continued. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you; I'm sorry I've been such a pain; I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"I'm okay, April, shhh, it's all right," he soothed, patting her back. Then, with mock sternness: "But just what do you think you're doing here? You're supposed to be back in Bayport!" He grasped her shoulders and held her away from him. "Why are you here?"

"I had to come," she said, her hazel eyes meeting his dark brown ones unflinchingly. "I couldn't risk something happening to you and me not being there. I lost Mom and Dad; I wasn't going to lose you, too." She hid her face in his coat again.

"Oh, April…." Unable to find words to scold her further, Jack hugged her again. "You little nut…." Over her head he sought out Frank and Joe. If he couldn't scold April, the Hardy boys would do as a substitute. "So this is how you protect my little sister, bringing her with you to track down armed drug dealers?" he accused.

Before either of the boys could answer, April popped her head up. "They didn't have a choice, Jack; I hid in the back of their van; they didn't know I was there until it was too late – I made them bring me along."

Jack sighed. "Why do I not doubt that at all?" He winced, and rubbed the side of his head ruefully. Frank noted that the pilot's eyes looked red and watery, and wondered whether emotion or something else was affecting him. _What did the 'overzealous' officer_ _do_ _to him, anyway?_

"You're hurt." April's fingers reached for the same spot, touching it gently. "You should lie down."

"No, I don't need to lie down," her brother denied. "I've been lying down." He didn't mention to his worried little sister that the _way_ he had been lying down was on the ground, out cold.

"If you're feeling up to it, Jack, I think we should have a little conversation with your passengers," Mr. Hardy commented. "I want to know exactly how they knew you were setting up another sting – and which one of them hit me!" he added, his hand going to the back of his skull.

"Is that permissible, sir?" Jack glanced at the police chief.

"Certainly," Chief Fantino nodded. "They're under guard in an office down the hall." He indicated the direction with a wave of his hand. "Just come with me, Fenton, Mr. Wayne."

April released her brother's arm reluctantly, and let him follow the other two men. "He looks terrible – poor Jack," she whispered to no one in particular.

Under the watchful gaze of a uniformed officer, Deke and Ernie sat slumped in chairs, sullen anger written in every line of their faces. Ernie was chewing on another unlit cigar. When Jack, Mr. Hardy and Chief Fantino entered the room, they were greeted with scowls by the two drug dealers. Chief Fantino made polite introductions.

"I have a few questions to ask," Fenton said mildly, folding his arms and surveying the prisoners.

"Why should we tell you anything?" Deke snarled. "We don't owe you anything!"

Fenton shrugged and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Even a little cooperation with authorities looks good on a rap sheet. And these are just general information questions."

"What do you want to know?" Ernie asked doubtfully.

"First, I'd like to know how you knew there was a sting going down tonight?" the detective inquired.

"We got a phone call," the little man replied, after a moment's pause. "An anonymous tip. And whoever it was said we should make plans for transportation out of Bayport tonight – immediate transportation. That's when we thought of Jack, here." He bared his teeth at the pilot in the semblance of a smile.

Jack scowled. "That makes no sense!" he expostulated. "No one knew about it—"

"There was a chance for a leak of information," Fenton reminded him. "Over in Westport."

Jack shrugged and nodded, conceding the point.

"Second, which one of you got the drop on me and Roger Taylor, and how did you manage to get in without us seeing you?" Mr. Hardy went on.

Both men looked confused. "We didn't do anything to you," Deke answered. "We just walked in the door and went to Wayne's office. You weren't there – you or anyone else."

"Now look, I'd like a straight answer!" Fenton snapped, annoyed. "I'm sporting a lump the size of a golf ball on the back of my head, and I want to know who to blame for it!"

"Mr. Hardy, neither one of us hit you!" Ernie insisted. "We never saw you at all, just like Deke said."

Despite repeated questioning, the two prisoners stuck to their story: they had received an anonymous tip on the sting, and neither one of them had knocked out Fenton or Roger. At last, Mr. Hardy indicated that he had nothing more to say to them, and Deke and Ernie were escorted from the room, heading for a boat that would take them to the mainland, and a prison cell. Chief Fantino remained behind for a moment.

"Fenton, I'll book you and Mr. Wayne rooms at a motel near the police station," he offered. "Neither one of you looks to be in any shape to go back to Bayport tonight anyway, and I'll need statements from you both, in the morning."

"Thank you, Julian," Mr. Hardy said wearily. "Let me check with my sons first, though, and find out whether we need more rooms for them – and Jack's sister."

As Jack and Fenton returned to the room where the boys and April waited, the detective scowled in deep thought.

"We still have that unknown "X" factor, Jack," he said. "Someone who tipped off Deke and Ernie – who knocked out Roger and myself – who probably switched the original bricks of cocaine. Someone at DEA headquarters, perhaps, who knew about the sting operation? Someone else flying cargo? Your young assistant Jason?"

"Jason wasn't around when Jesse was killed," Jack stated. "He just started working for me a couple of months ago."

"That doesn't mean he couldn't be somehow involved."

April, Frank and Joe were waiting, not too patiently, where they had been left. When Jack and Fenton entered the room, all three teens looked up expectantly.

"Well?" Frank demanded.

"They say they received an anonymous phone tip about the sting, and they categorically deny hitting Roger or me," his father responded. "So there are still some unanswered questions. An unidentified person – or more than one."

"That person just may decide to skip town," Joe said, worried. "Frank and I should probably fly back to Bayport right now, and see if we can find out anything more."

"I hate to have you fly back there yet tonight, Frank," Fenton said dubiously. "But I admit, we need to move somewhat quickly. Jack and I have to stay here, so we can give our statements to the police tomorrow – well, later today," he amended. "I wish you boys could stay overnight here too."

"It's okay, Dad; I'm not all that tired," Frank assured him. "And we realize that time is important."

"Jack, I should stay here with you, shouldn't I?" April inquired. "You're injured, after all—"

"No way, little girl; if Frank and Joe are flying back to Bayport tonight, you're going with them!" Jack stated emphatically. "I'll be fine. Don't hover over me like that; all I need is some aspirin and some rest. Fenton and I are going to get a room and I'm going to sleep off this headache."

April reluctantly agreed, worried but unwilling to argue with her brother at that point. "Which plane should we take?" she inquired. "Yours, or the one we came in?"

"Go ahead and take mine back," Jack replied, after a moment's thought. "Fenton and I'll bring Jesse's back tomorrow. Frank, there's coffee in a thermal mug in the pilot's seat pocket, if you want some. I brought it from Bayport, but never drank any of it." He grinned teasingly. "So no germs to worry about."

"Thanks, Jack. I'll find it."

"You're sure you're all right to fly, son?" Mr. Hardy asked yet again. "There's a storm brewing, remember."

"It's all good, Dad," his elder son reassured him. "Don't worry about anything. You just take care of yourself." Frank and Joe hugged their father, and shook hands with Jack; April clung to her older brother for a moment as if she never wanted to let go, but finally released him.

"See you tomorrow, sis!" Jack kissed the top of her head. "Make sure Frank does everything right, on the flight back, okay?"

She nodded. "I will," she promised him seriously. "See you, Jack."

Despite the rain and occasional gusts of wind, Frank got the plane off the ground without difficulty, and headed for Bayport. April, in the co-pilot's seat, was watchful at first, but as the minutes ticked by, she relaxed, assured that Frank was entirely capable of handling the little craft through the turbulence. Tense in one of the rear seats, Joe braced himself against the bounces and tilts of the plane, and wished they'd opted for taking a commercial flight back to Bayport. Eventually, Frank got them above the storm, and the ride smoothed out. Joe relaxed and closed his eyes, sliding steadily toward sleep.

"April, can you hold it steady for a minute? I want to grab some coffee." Frank reached for the silver-and-black thermos in the pocket of his seat, that Jack had told him would be there. He unscrewed the top and poured a cup of the steaming brew. "Do you want any?"

April shook her head, keeping her eyes on the instruments as she carefully guided the plane with her left hand. "No thanks; I only like it with cream and sugar. Jack says the stuff they brew in the pilot's lounge at most airports tastes like recycled motor oil, but I don't think his is all that much better!"

"Joe? Want some coffee?" Frank offered.

"Uh-uh," his brother mumbled. "I want to sleep."

"Okay." Frank shrugged and sipped, then drank half the cup down. "Wow, Jack likes it strong, doesn't he?" He gulped the rest, shuddering a little at the brew's bite.

"Told you," April responded. She glanced over at Frank, making sure he had the controls in hand before she released her set. "You ready to fly again?"

"Uh-huh."

There was companionable silence for a time, with the steady sound of the engines providing a background. Joe felt himself drifting off to sleep. _So tired…feels like about a week since I had a good night's rest…._ His dreamy thoughts were rudely interrupted by April's outcry, as the plane took an abrupt nose-dive, and he felt his stomach lurch as the plane dropped.

"Frank! Watch what you're doing!"

"What's wrong, April? Didn't you think it was fun?" Frank laughed. Joe looked at him in consternation; somehow Frank's laugh sounded…odd.

"Fun! Are you crazy?" April was tugging on her yoke, pulling the plane level once more.

"It was fun!" Frank insisted. "And I want to do it again!" He shoved the yoke forward, pushing against April's resistance with her own set of controls. The little plane bucked and lurched in the storm winds, and Joe clung to his seat, feeling decidedly queasy.

"Frank, stop it!" April screamed, and abruptly he obeyed.

"Okay, okay – spoilsport," he muttered. The elder Hardy boy sighed and settled back into his seat, apparently concentrating on his tasks once again. April eyed him suspiciously, but loosened her tight grasp on her yoke.

Joe watched his brother intently, all thoughts of sleep gone. _Frank never takes chances like that!_ he thought. After a few minutes, he noticed Frank shake his head, blinking his eyes.

"You okay, Frank?" he asked apprehensively.

"Things are – sort of going – out of focus…"

"Maybe you'd better let April fly for awhile, pal."

"No, no…I'm okay." Frank riveted his attention to the instrument panel. "It was just for a minute, there…."

Minutes passed; Joe and April were both watching Frank closely now. He seemed to be all right, and Joe was just beginning to relax when the plane abruptly slanted downward once again. Joe braced himself against the descent, feeling his stomach do flips.

"Frank!" April shouted. "Stop it!" She yanked on the controls once more, to level the plane.

"Huh? Wha— I'm sorry, Ap-april." Frank's usually clear tones sounded slurred. "I di'n't do it – on purpose…."

"Frank, what's wrong with you?" April demanded, tension filling her voice.

"I – don't feel – so good," he mumbled.

Joe sat forward in his seat, alarmed. "How don't you feel good?" he asked.

"Dizzy…" Frank shook his head, trying to clear the fog. "Can't see – the instrument – panel…." Alternating sparkles of light and dark spots floated in front of Frank's eyes. He rubbed them, and squeezed them tightly shut for a moment, then tried again to focus. "Dizzy…" he repeated.

"Oh my God—" Joe unfastened his seat belt and lunged between the seats. "April, can you take the controls for a minute?"

"Yes, I have them," she replied steadily. Gripping the yoke tightly with her left hand, she managed to brace it with the fingertips of her right hand, and she felt for the rudder pedals with her feet, although twinges of pain in her right leg made her wince. "But you need to get Frank out of that seat and away from the controls. I don't know what's wrong with him, but he's a danger to us right now."

"Frank—" Joe grasped his older brother's shoulder. "Frank, talk to me, buddy!"

"Joe…." Frank's head sagged forward to his chest; with great effort he forced it up again. "Feel – so weird. Can't – stay awake…."

"Change seats with me!" Joe snapped. "Come on, bro, get in back."

"No – no, you can't – fly…. Gotta – fly…plane.…April can't…."

"You can't!" Joe clutched at the seat back as the plane was buffeted by wind. "Come on, Frank, get in the back!" He unsnapped Frank's seat belt and tried to tug him to his feet. Frank fought him weakly, attempting to push him away, but Joe deflected the feeble resistance, and half-lifted, half-shoved his brother toward the rear seat. Just as Joe was easing him down, Frank's knees buckled, and he went limp in Joe's arms.

"Frank!" Joe shook him hard, but to no avail. The elder boy slumped in his seat; sagged sideways. Joe clamped his fingers on Frank's wrist, checking for the heartbeat.

"Is he—" April's voice shook. "Joe, he's not—"

"Pulse is fine; he's breathing okay," Joe assured her, "But he's out cold." He positioned Frank in his seat and fastened the safety belt about his unconscious brother; then he made his way forward to the pilot's seat once again, and sat down.

"What happened to him?" April demanded fearfully.

"Offhand, I'd say there was something in that coffee he drank." Joe opened the thermos and sniffed the contents, then shook his head. "I don't smell anything, and I'm sure as heck not going to taste it!" He carefully re-capped the container. "Are you okay to get us back to Bayport, April?" he asked, watching her competent handling of the little plane.

"Yes and no," she replied. "I'm fine as long as we're up here in clear air, and I'm just keeping the plane aloft. But when it comes to landing, I can't do it, with just one hand. That's where you come in."

"Me!" Joe cried. "Hey, I'm the one who doesn't have the pilot's license, remember? I can't land this thing; landings are what did me in before!" He felt a rush of panic. _She can't mean it! Me, land this plane? No way! I'll crash it and kill all three of us!_

"Joe, it will be fine," April said calmly. "You've flown before; you're not exactly a novice, even if you don't have your pilot's license. And I'll talk you through every step of it; it'll be okay."

Joe gulped. He suddenly remembered another reason he didn't take to flying, as his stomach began churning with nerves. _Hardy, you are_ _not_ _going to get airsick_ _now_ _,_ he reminded himself sternly. It didn't help much. "April, I don't think I can—" he reiterated.

"Joe, you have to," she replied. "There isn't any other option."

Joe stared at the instrument panel, trying to familiarize himself with the controls and dials. _I knew all these things once; come on, Joe,_ _remember_ _this stuff!_ Slowly, as the little plane flew steadily onward under April's guidance, the younger Hardy began to relax and recall the things that Jack had taught him.

"Take it for a minute, Joe, while I try to radio Bayport," the girl instructed him then, and Joe took the yoke in trembling hands.

"Just keep it level; nothing fancy," April murmured. She released her own controls and reached for the radio switch. "November Papa Charlie 218, calling Bayport Tower; come in please…Bayport, come in please." Static fuzzed through the speakers for a few moments; although a few words were intelligible, most of it was too garbled to decipher. "Bayport, come in please." April tried again, but finally shook her head and replaced the mike in its holder. "I think they can hear me, but I can't get a thing in response," she sighed. "Maybe when we're a little closer."

April and Joe alternated flying the plane for a period of time, with Joe handling the controls for longer and longer stretches. He was beginning to feel more comfortable now; and April's comments were encouraging and approving. _She's going to be as good a flight instructor as her brother one of these days!_ Joe thought to himself. Lulled into relaxation, he was caught unprepared when a sudden gust of wind shook the craft and tilted it sideways.

"Whoops!" April grabbed hastily at her yoke and tried to stabilize the plane; Joe did the same with his own set of controls. "The storm is getting worse!" she gasped. "It's going to be harder to keep the plane level, Joe, so concentrate, okay? I only hope we don't run into—" A bright flash interrupted her words, and Joe flinched at the sudden BOOM of thunder and crackle of electricity. "—lightning," April finished.

"Why?" Joe demanded fearfully.

"Because the electricity in the air plays hell with the on-board computer," she said tersely. "The computer has the code for the Bayport airport – but if the lightning messes with it, there's no telling where we could end up."

"What?" Joe nearly shrieked.

"Joe, it's okay; I can navigate manually, but I can't do that and fly too, not with only one hand."

Joe jumped again as another clap of thunder resounded, followed almost immediately by the _snap-crack_ of a lightning flash. "That was awfully close!" he gasped. He felt as if his stomach was being tied into knots.

"It's okay, Joe; it's all right, just concentrate on keeping the plane level…." April kept her voice calm and soothing. "Watch the instruments and keep the nose up."

Joe fought the controls, using all his strength and every bit of concentration he possessed. His grasp on the yoke was so tight his knuckles were white, and his hands began to ache, but he didn't dare loosen his grip. "How far – from Bayport?" he shouted over another grumbling roll of thunder.

April was scanning dials and comparing them to navigation charts. "Maybe another half-hour – or a little more," she answered loudly. "Joe, change course just a little." She indicated the new course setting, and Joe grimly followed her directions. "That's better – can you get it above the storm at all?"

"I'm trying—" Joe pulled back on the yoke, making a desperate attempt to guide them higher. "Doesn't want to lift!" Another _crack-flash_ , and the plane shuddered and tilted again. Joe felt bile rise in his throat. "I think I'm gonna be sick!" he gasped.

"Not now!" April yelled. "You can barf as much as you want, after we land, but right now you don't have time!" Joe gulped and clenched his teeth, forcing his rebelling stomach to behave, and grimly clung to the yoke, doing his best to stabilize them again.

 _Frank, you picked a fine time to pass out!_ Joe cringed as lightning speared down almost directly in front of the plane's nose. He glanced at the instrument panel, and was appalled to see the indicators going crazy, affected by the storm. _I'm flying blind…._ "April, I can't  do this! I'll crash us for sure!"

The young girl stared out the window, fear coursing through her as the lightning played abut the plane. _I was so afraid of something happening to Jack…afraid of being left alone,_ she thought. _I never thought about this, though…what if, instead of Jack leaving me alone – it's me who leaves_ _him_ _?_


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews [Cherylann Rivers, Max2013, Sparkling Soul and a mysterious guest]; you're greatly appreciated! Also, thank you to those who may have read and enjoyed the story so far, but did not post commentary.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 18

Fighting down her horror-stricken thoughts, April Wayne set her teeth and took a deep breath. "Joe Hardy, we are not going to crash!" she yelled over the rolling swell of thunder. "I've already crashed a plane once this week. Once a year is too much; twice in one week borders on the ludicrous."

In the relative calm following the thunderclap, Joe stared at his companion. "How can you make jokes at a time like this?" he demanded, his voice escalating in both pitch and volume.

"If I don't make them now, I might not get another chance!" she responded with a tight smile.

"Gee, thanks, April, that makes me feel so much better!" Joe gulped, feeling his insides trying to turn flips and freeze at the same time.

"Besides, what makes you think I'm joking? If I ruin this plane too, Jack will never let me hear the end of it….Now concentrate, Joe!

"I am concentrating!" Joe snapped furiously. _When I get a chance, I'm gonna be_ _so_ _sick…._ He gritted his teeth as lightning danced about the little plane, and it shuddered in a swirling wind gust. He stole a glance backward once, to check on Frank. The older boy was sprawled limply in his seat; the safety belt held him securely in place, but he was still getting jounced around, and his head jerked forward and then back again as Joe watched. _Ouch, whiplash city!_ Joe thought, and winced; then he was trying frantically to pull the craft's nose level once again.

Ten minutes…fifteen, twenty…half an hour of fighting the elements. Joe was exhausted, nauseated, and scared to death. Sweat rolled down his forehead, and he felt his shirt plastered to his back beneath his jacket. April tried to help, whenever she could, but most of her concentration was on navigating, with an occasional attempt at using the radio.

"Bayport Tower, this is a Mayday, please respond…."

"November Papa Charlie 218, we read you; can you hear us now?" A voice crackled through the static. "We've been picking up your message, but we couldn't punch through to you."

"Yes!" Joe nearly screamed in exultation. "Finally!"

Through the sputtering static, April explained the situation: one pilot unconscious; another hampered by injuries; the person who had to land the plane had had flight instruction, but didn't possess a pilot's license. Joe winced as he listened. _Never hear the end of this one is right…._

When April ended her conversation, she grinned over at Joe. "They'll have an ambulance there for Frank, available as soon as we land. We just have to get the plane on the ground first. Piece of cake, right?"

"How can you be so calm?" Joe tried to peer out as rain sluiced across the windshield.

"When you're 20,000 feet in the air and in control of a two-ton plane that can destroy a good portion of a city if it crashes, you don't dare be anything except calm," April retorted. "Now start taking us down, Joe, little by little. Nice gradual descent…don't worry, we won't miss the airport – after all, we can circle for a while, if we have to."

The thought of staying aloft in a holding pattern for any length of time nearly made the boy retch. "Let's get it right the first time, okay?" he muttered.

"Fine by me."

As if in a dream, Joe heard April echo her words of a few days before: _Fine by me…that sounds painful…_ and he set his jaw grimly. _I'll get it right the first time – I_ _will_ _get it right! She's not going to be in another crash if I have anything to say about it…!_

Down, down, down….the instruments were no help; the lightning had caused most of them to malfunction earlier, and they didn't come back online now. Joe looked out, trying to see through the rain-streaks, and beheld the lights of Bayport.

"There—" he croaked hoarsely, and unclenched one hand from the yoke long enough to gesture toward the lights. April looked, then nodded and smiled.

"Relax Joe; movies are always having people land airplanes bigger than this with not even as much prior training as you've had. If they can do that, you can do this."

Joe wasn't sure he found comfort in that. "Yeah, but it's in the script that they don't kill anyone. And if they fail the first time they can always reshoot the scene. I haven't read the script for this little adventure to know if we live or die and I certainly don't want to reshoot it."

"Poor Joe. You're doing great, really. We're almost there," she said. "Just one more hurdle."

Joe didn't take his eyes off the controls in front of him to even look at her. "Just one more? And here I was just beginning to enjoy them; are you sure you can't throw in a few more just for good measure?"

April laughed. "He's making jokes; we might live through this yet," she commented. "Okay Joe, ease the yoke forward until the little plane on the control panel is at thirty degrees. I know with this weather it's going to be difficult, but you have to keep it at that angle. I'm going to lower the landing gear now.

She reached over him awkwardly with her uninjured arm and pulled the lever that would release the wheels for landing. After doing so, she squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "Okay, Joe, that's great. You are a natural at this…even if you do look a couple of shades closer to a frog than a human being. Now ease up on the throttle and start your descent. Slow and easy; you can see the runway lights now. Just aim between those lines of lights. As soon as the wheels touch the ground, you're going to feel resistance in the yoke; don't let go. Pull the yoke forward as hard as you can and take your foot off the throttle, and hit the brakes. We've got plenty of runway so don't worry about hitting anything."

Joe, listening intently to her instructions, couldn't help but grin a little. "We won't run the plane right into the control tower? Surely that would be a disaster."

April lightly punched his arm good-naturedly. She had seen the movie _Airplane_ many times as well, and knew exactly what he was referring to. "No Joe, we won't run into the control tower…and don't call me Shirley."

Joe shook his head, a little nonplused. "I can't believe I'm about to land this thing, and maybe kill all three of us and half a city, and I'm making movie jokes! The stress must have made me flip out."

"We're not going to die, Joe Hardy, and the city is safe. Just be glad that Frank isn't awake to see you be less than calm, cool, and collected. He'd never let you hear the end of it. Fortunately for you, I remember exactly how much less than calm, cool and collected I was last week when I knew I was about to crash. So I can't fault you at all…. That's good, Joe, slow and easy…."

"Here goes…hang on, April, hang on!" _Frank, at least you're unconscious and won't feel the impact!_ Joe watched the ground rise up to meet him, bit his lip hard – and touched the wheels down.

The plane jolted, bounced, and was airborne again. Joe reduced speed to next to nothing and shoved the yoke forward. They hit the runway with an impact that threatened to snap the landing gear, but this time the wheels stayed on the ground. Joe applied the brakes, tentatively at first, then with greater assurance. Lights flashed by on either side: the beautiful, reassuring runway lights that indicated safety. With a last convulsive shudder, Jack Wayne's precious blue-and-white treasure came to a halt at the end of the runway.

"YEEEEE-HAWWW!" Joe's version of a Rebel yell split the night. "We made it!" He turned off the ignition, and the sibilant throb of the engines died away. "We're down, April, we made it!"

"I knew you could do it!" she exulted. "I knew you could!"

"We did it," Joe corrected her. "You and me – together we did it."

Unable to stand being in the cockpit any longer, Joe yanked open his door and climbed out of the plane, unmindful of the rain streaming down. Flashing lights were rapidly approaching; the emergency vehicles were on their way. April clambered out too, and made her way to Joe's side.

"You were great, Joe!" April was swiping at her face with her hand; Joe wasn't sure if she was brushing away raindrops or tears. Impulsively, he caught her into a tight embrace, and kissed her resoundingly.

"I couldn't have done it without you!" he cried. "April Wayne, you are one heck of a flight instructor!" But even as he spoke, Joe felt his knees begin to knock; reaction was setting in, displacing exhilaration. He gulped and shivered; braced himself with a hand against the plane. "I feel sick…."

For a moment, April looked shocked, then she began to laugh. "Kissing me makes you feel sick?" she teased, "Gee, no wonder I never have any dates!"

Joe's attempted apology was swallowed up in the noisy arrival of the airport's ambulance. Two EMTs leaped from the vehicle and hurried toward them.

"More EMTs," April groaned. "If I never see one again, it'll be too soon."

"We're okay," Joe waved the medics toward the plane. "But my brother's unconscious, in there." He reached through the open door for the thermos. "I think he was drugged – something in this coffee." He handed the container to one of the EMT's, who put it in her bag as she climbed into the plane's interior. "And he was thrown around quite a bit, during the flight and the landing!" Joe called after her. "So be really careful moving him, huh?"

"Get into the ambulance out of the rain," the second EMT recommended, preparing to follow his partner. Joe took April's arm and steered her toward the vehicle; they climbed in, grateful for the shelter. The moisture had penetrated their clothes quickly, and Joe found himself shivering; he still felt queasy despite being safe on the ground. The two teens sat quietly, not attempting to make conversation; it was enough just to know they were safe.

A tap on the window made them both jump. Someone was standing beside the ambulance, the rain flattening his blonde hair against his head. Joe rolled down the window.

"Hi?" he said cautiously to the man.

"It's Roger," April told him. "Roger Taylor. He works for Jack."

Not having met the man before, Joe surveyed the DEA agent with interest. _Looks kind of nerdy…probably makes a good cover for him to look like that._ He extended a hand out the window. "Joe Hardy; I'm Frank's brother."

"I'm glad to meet you, Joe. April, what happened? I heard from Jack that you three were flying back, and then the next thing I heard was that you were coming in on an emergency basis!"

"Something happened to Frank; we're not sure what," she explained. "He got dizzy and then passed out. Joe thinks maybe he was drugged."

"How could that happen?" Taylor asked. "And who could have drugged him?"

"We don't know," Joe stated tersely. "And if you'll excuse me—" He saw the medics exiting Jack's plane, wheeling Frank on a stretcher and heading toward the ambulance. Joe slid out of the vehicle and hurried to walk beside his brother. Frank had been tightly strapped to the stretcher; he was wearing a cervical collar, and his face was very pale. "Is he all right?" Joe demanded.

"All his vitals are good," the male paramedic reassured him. "He has some bruises, and probably some muscle strain – you were right about him getting tossed around, I think – but nothing appears to be broken. He'll be pretty sore though, when he wakes up." They lifted the stretcher from its wheeled base and slid it into the ambulance.

"We want to go with him to the hospital," Joe said. "We'll be ready in a minute ." He stepped to the front of the ambulance, where Roger and April were still conversing. Roger moved to intercept him.

"How is Frank?" he asked.

"I don't know for sure," Joe admitted, "but the medic said his vitals are okay; he's bruised, though, and still unconscious. I'm going to go with him in the ambulance. April, you coming?"

"I want to, but we can't exactly leave the plane in the middle of the runway," she reminded the anxious boy. "Someone needs to come get it, or we need to taxi it back to the hangar."

Joe ground his teeth with impatience as Roger tapped him quietly on the shoulder.

"One question, Joe – did you bring the cocaine back with you?"

Joe blinked. The question seemed inappropriate, somehow.

"Uh – no, it's still in Toronto. Jack and Dad will bring it back tomorrow, I think. Why?"

"Well, I'm responsible for it, after all," Roger reminded him. "I should return it to headquarters as soon as possible." He stepped back, sensing Joe's impatience. "I'll let you go on with Frank now, then. I may catch a flight up to Toronto yet tonight, so that Jack doesn't have to worry about bringing the evidence back." He walked away, and Joe started once again to get in the back of the ambulance. He stopped, seeing April's thoughtful frown as she watched Roger Taylor walk away.

"Funny thing…" she said quietly, "I've never liked him very much, for some reason. I guess I must subconsciously blame him for what was happening with Jack. Jack started acting weird right after Roger started working for Wayne's World, and I must have associated the two events."

Joe smiled. "I can tell you something about Roger that you didn't know. He's an undercover agent for Drug Enforcement, and he's been working for Jack so that he could keep an eye on the situation with Deke and Ernie. He was in on the sting operation tonight."

April glanced at Joe in surprise. "Really?" She considered it a moment, then nodded. "That explains it, then."

"Explains what?"

"Why he was on Jack's plane right before I took off, on Monday. He got on, and then off a couple of minutes later. I suppose the package he was carrying had something to do with the sting operation that was supposed to go down, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess it must have," Joe replied absently, watching the medics securing Frank's stretcher in place. "Can't we leave the plane here for a while?" he pleaded. "We can come back and move it after we make sure Frank's okay."

"Well—" April hesitated. "I'll check with the tower control and see if that would be okay. I suppose the traffic controllers can route around this landing strip." She started toward the plane again, intending to use the radio. Joe watched her, an errant thought niggling at his brain.

 _Roger was in the plane before it took off? Well, I suppose that makes sense, like April said…. But – something – can't remember – something Frank told me…_ _wait a minute_ _! Frank said Roger told him he wasn't at the hangar when April left! He'd been there earlier, and he was there later, but…April isn't mistaken; she knows what she saw. If Roger was in the plane – then_ _he's_ _the one that switched the bricks of coke! She said he was carrying a package…. And he was the only other one who knew about both sting operations…. He – omigosh,_ _the coffee_ _! Roger had access to Jack's coffee! And he said he was going to go to Toronto – to pick up the cocaine, he said – but – he'll try and kill Jack and Dad again!_

Forgetting his unconscious brother, unmindful of April, leaning against the plane as she chatted with the control tower, heedless of the persistent nausea that threatened to overwhelm him, Joe took off running across the tarmac, cutting straight across the landing strips, heading for the cargo hangars where Roger Taylor had disappeared into the rainy night.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews [Cherylann Rivers, Max2013, Sparkling Soul and a mysterious guest]; you're greatly appreciated! I know it's difficult trying to follow a story when the updates don't get announced consistently. And thank you also to anyone who has read and enjoyed the story, even if you haven't left any commentary.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 19

"Joe! What's wrong? Where are you going?" April broke off her conversation to shout after him, but the boy never looked back or responded. Hastily, she told the controller she would call back, and hurried over to the ambulance, where the medics were staring in confusion at Joe's fleeing form.

"What happened to him? I thought he wanted to ride to the hospital with his brother?" the woman EMT said blankly.

"Something came up," April glibly replied. "Go ahead and take Frank in; we'll catch up with you at the hospital."

She limped back to Jack's plane and climbed aboard, settling herself in the pilot's seat and reaching to slam the doors shut. _April, my girl, you may not have been up to landing this crate right now, but you can surely_ _taxi_ _it!_ She pushed the button to start the ignition, pulled the throttle out slightly, and let off on the brakes. Slowly, the little craft began to move along the runway once more. _Darn it, I have to stay on the strip, while Joe just cuts across…_ _what_ _could have happened, to make him take off like that? Something Roger said, or did?_

Joe arrived at the Wayne's World hangar winded and gasping. He paused briefly, leaning against the outside wall to catch his breath; then pulled open the door and entered the building quietly. The lights were on, but looking about, Joe didn't see any sign of Roger Taylor. Had he missed him, somehow? Then sounds came from the direction of Jack's office cubicle, and Roger emerged, carrying a briefcase. He stopped short, seeing Joe standing there.

"Joe? What are you doing here? I thought you were accompanying Frank to the hospital? Shouldn't you be with him?"

"I had something else I had to do first," Joe snapped. "Hey, Mr. DEA-Agent, tell me something. What did you do with the first stash of coke, the one you took out of Jack's plane last Monday?"

"What?" Taylor blinked at him, evidently taken aback. "What are you talking about? Joe, I realize you're terribly upset right now, what with Frank so ill, and the stress of having to land that plane, but accusing me of things like that is rude, even so! You're imagining things."

Joe shook his head. "I'm not imagining things at all. You did it, all right. You switched the bricks of cocaine with baby powder, didn't you? And you figured on switching again, if April and Frank and I had brought them back with us. Since we didn't, you're heading for Toronto, to make the switch there."

"Joe, these accusations are ridiculous!" Taylor scoffed. "I work for the DEA, remember?"

"I remember," the boy answered grimly, "all too well. You wouldn't be the first rogue agent in the history of the DEA. April saw you get on and off Jack's plane, right before she took off in it, Mr. Taylor. She saw you were carrying a package. She thinks it had something to do with the sting operation – but I know better."

"I'm not staying here to listen to this nonsense; I have a plane to catch," the agent said, moving to brush past Joe. Joe reached out and caught his arm in a tight grip.

"You and Dad were supposedly knocked out by Deke and Ernie," Joe continued harshly. "But they deny doing it; they both say they never even saw Dad or you. You seem in pretty good health for someone who was knocked out earlier tonight; I saw what condition my father was in." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "You hit Dad over the head, didn't you?….And you made the telephone call to Ernie, tipping him off."

"Joe, this has gone far enough; stop making these wild accusations!" Taylor growled, and attempted to free himself again.

"You doped Jack's coffee, too, didn't you? What were you figuring, that he would crash, and you could pick up the packages again? Now that that plan failed, what's Plan B? Go to Toronto and switch the drugs – or something even worse? Were you thinking of making sure Dad and Jack had an accident on the way home, too?"

Roger yanked free of Joe's grasp, stepped back a pace, and slid his hand inside his coat. Before Joe could react, he found himself staring into the barrel of a revolver.

"Don't do anything stupid, Joe," Taylor gritted. "I can't miss at this range."

Joe held still, not daring to risk movement. "Tell me why…." he whispered.

"You're too smart for your own good," the agent said. "I always heard that it was your brother who had the brains. Maybe you have some too. You're right, of course – I'm not the first agent to do this sort of thing. Government agencies don't pay all that well, you know – they really should up the pay scale." He smiled thinly at his attempt at humor. "Working undercover for DEA made it very simple to pocket evidence, here and there – and there's a very nice market for – shall we say – certain types of merchandise."

"You slimeball," Joe hissed, under his breath. Taylor eyed him grimly and raised his gun minutely, reminding the boy of its existence.

"Because of your deductions, my plans have been changed a little. I was simply heading for Toronto to pick up the evidence – and to make sure Deke and Ernie were extradited. If Fenton and Jack happened to have plane trouble on the way back to Bayport, well, that would be pure coincidence, wouldn't it? Perhaps Wayne's World airplanes have mechanical defects; they seem to be involved in a lot of accidents lately, don't they? Or perhaps something is amiss with the pilots…?"

Joe clenched his fists tightly, but remained silent.

"Even if they make it back to Bayport without mishap," the agent continued smoothly, "I'm afraid it will be a sad homecoming. Poor Fenton – to arrive home and find one son in the hospital, due to ingestion of drugs – and the other a shooting victim – interrupted a robbery, possibly, or someone who knew about the cocaine scam. Hmmm, Jason Montgomery, perhaps?"

"You'll never get away with it," Joe muttered. He shifted his weight slightly, and edged forward perhaps half an inch. _If I can just get a little closer, maybe I can get the jump on him; kick the gun out of his hand…._

"Oh? Who is likely to stop me?" Taylor sneered. "Frank is in the hospital, and won't recover consciousness until too late to do anything about it. That was ironic, by the way, that he drank the coffee meant for Jack Wayne. I'd hoped Jack would go down before he ever reached whatever destination Deke and Ernie were heading to – elimination of an irritating do-gooder and some equally irritating competition, in a nice, neat package!"

"You call a plane crash 'nice' and 'neat'?" Joe was horrified by the cold-bloodedness evinced by the rogue agent, but even in his horror, he managed another half-inch step toward Taylor. _Just a little farther…_

"What I call it doesn't matter." The man shrugged slightly. "What does matter is that I have to leave now – I have a plane to catch. Goodbye, Joe Hardy – it was a short acquaintance, wasn't it?" He raised the pistol and thumbed the hammer back to cock it.

At that moment, a sharp, scraping _crash_ came from the back of the hangar. Both men jumped, and Roger Taylor instinctively turned toward the sound, his gun hand swinging to the side. Joe leaped forward, his foot arcing up into a side kick that sent the gun flying from Taylor's hand. The weapon sailed through the air, hit the concrete floor, and skidded away, well out of reach of either of them. With a snarled curse, the agent swung his fist at Joe's head, and managed to connect with a solid blow to the chin that rocked the boy back on his heels. In an instant, Taylor was on him, punching with one hand and reaching for Joe's throat with the other.

Joe was no stranger to hand-to-hand combat, but he was at a disadvantage; he was exhausted, shaken, and physically ill from his harrowing flight to Bayport. Also, Roger Taylor was a trained DEA agent; he was smaller and slighter than the Hardy boy, but he had well-developed fighting skills. Most importantly, Taylor was a desperate man, and he wasn't above fighting dirty to get away.

Joe managed to block a second blow to his head, but the agent brought his knee up sharply, and connected with Joe's already-aching stomach. Fresh pain from the blow combined with renewed pain from the bruises inflicted by Deke's fists, and Joe doubled over, groaning and clutching himself. Taylor aimed a kick behind the boy's left knee, and Joe went down on his back, trying to curl into a protective ball. Before he could manage it, however, his assailant was straddling him, both hands around Joe's throat, squeezing relentlessly.

Dark spots swam across Joe's vision as his oxygen supply was cut off. He struggled against Taylor's inexorable grip, but those struggles became more and more feeble. _Can I fake him out…?_ Joe wondered dimly, and abruptly went limp, hoping his opponent would relax his hold. But Roger Taylor was wise to such tricks; he loosened one hand, true – but before Joe could move, that hand was a fist that connected with his stomach one more time.

The combination of pain and oxygen deprivation were too much for Joe. He lay unmoving, no longer able to resist. An errant thought – _I love you, Vanessa –_ flitted through his brain as he waited helplessly for Roger to finish him off.

Joe heard a sudden _thump_ somewhere above him – the pressure on his throat eased abruptly – and Roger Taylor collapsed across the semi-conscious boy, his weight a sodden mass. Joe forced his eyes open, trying to drag in a breath of air – and beheld April Wayne, hovering over him like an avenging angel. In her hand, rather than the sword such an angel might have carried, was a large, heavy wrench.

"April?" he croaked, "Wha—where— "

"I think I killed him," she whispered, stricken. "I didn't think I could hit so hard with my left hand…."

Joe managed to heave Taylor's body off his, and lay gasping on the floor, attempting to recover. "No – such – luck," he panted. A wave of nausea swept over him as he tried to lever himself up; he got as far as his knees before he knew he was in trouble. Too many rough plane flights mixed badly with too many punches to the stomach; Joe Hardy gagged once or twice, then was thoroughly and violently sick, all over Roger Taylor's neatly pressed slacks and suede loafers.

Perhaps thirty seconds later, mortified beyond anything in his memory, Joe blinked watery eyes and looked up at April. He found that she had discreetly turned her back, and was resolutely staring at the opposite wall.

"Please – please tell me you didn't see that," he rasped, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She turned to face him, smiling. "Joe, if he was responsible for anything that's happened the last few days, I wish I could barf on him too. It's okay anyway; I had to take care of Jack when he had the stomach flu last fall – this is nothing, compared to that." She watched Joe's cautious attempt to get to his feet and added: "Besides, didn't I tell you that you could be sick after we landed?"

Joe tried to laugh at that, but it came out closer to a whimper. "I'm never going to hear the end of this one, am I?"

"Don't worry, Joe," she said gently. "No one will hear about this from me. Not ever." She set down her weapon, and reached to take his arm and support him. "The restroom is right down that hall," she advised, and gave him a little push in the indicated direction.

Joe glanced down at the unconscious DEA agent. "Find his gun," he whispered, and tottered down the hallway.

When he emerged a few minutes later, Joe was still pale, but he had splashed his face with water, and rinsed his mouth out, and he actually felt almost like his normal self, if a bit shaky. April was standing beside Roger, his gun wrapped in a cloth and held in her left hand, the barrel pointing down at his head – just in case.

"Is there a tarp around here anywhere?" Joe asked her.

"A tarp?" April elevated questioning eyebrows. "Why do you want a tarp?"

"Because we're going to take old Roger-Dodger to the police station – on our way to the hospital – and there's no way I'm going to pick him up and carry him like that." Joe shuddered, and April began to laugh.

"I think there are some in that storage closet." She pointed, and Joe rummaged, emerging triumphantly a few seconds later. The two of them wrapped Taylor snugly in the tarp, and secured it with a couple of bungee cords. When they were finished, Joe bent to pick up the bundled form, but paused. Instead, he turned to April, and enveloped her in a tight hug.

"You were incredible, kiddo. You got there just in time, with that wrench. I didn't have anything left, at that point."

She smiled demurely. "That's not the only thing I did right, either." At Joe's questioning look, she tilted her head toward the back of the hangar. "I shoved a stack of boxes with my foot, and made the noise to distract Roger, so you could kick his gun away! I still don't know what's going on, but I saw him holding that gun on you, and I knew I had to do something."

"You are incredible! I owe you double, now. I'll explain it all on the way to the hospital," Joe promised her. "I want to check on Frank." He bent down, picked up Taylor's tarp-shrouded form, and heaved the agent across his shoulders. "On second thought, I have a better plan. Maybe we should just call the police from the van, and have them meet us at the hospital. You and that wrench probably gave old Roger a concussion!"


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews [Cherylann Rivers, Max2013, Sparkling Soul and a mysterious guest]; you're greatly appreciated! I know it's difficult trying to follow a story when the updates don't get announced consistently. And thank you to any and all who are reading and enjoying the story but not necessarily leaving comments.

APRIL SHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 20

Frank Hardy drew in a long breath and blinked his eyes open. He had expected to be in his own bed, in his familiar room at home, but the white walls that met his gaze were certainly not those of his room – although they were disquietingly familiar. _A hospital? Why am I in a hospital?_

He started to turn his head – and stopped with a hiss at the pain which seared through his neck at his first attempt to move. _What_ _happened_ _to me?_

"Frank?" a voice said, off to his right. Very gingerly, Frank managed to turn toward the voice; he beheld his father sitting beside the bed.

"Dad?" Frank blinked, confused. "What's going on? Why am I here…? Why are you here?"

"What do you remember?" Fenton countered. "And how are you feeling?"

Frank silently assessed himself for a few seconds. "Rotten," he admitted finally. "I hurt all over – especially my neck. And the last thing I remember is…taking off from Toronto – my God, the plane!" He jerked upright, but flinched and fell back against the pillow; Fenton quickly put out a hand to restrain him. "Dad – did I crash the plane? What happened to Joe and April?" he demanded.

"Frank – Frank, take it easy, son," his father soothed him. "It's all right…you didn't crash the plane, and Joe and April are fine; I made them go home to get some rest, otherwise they would both have been here with you now."

"April – managed to fly the plane – and land it? And what happened to me? I – everything's confused, but I remember being dizzy…."

Mr. Hardy grinned boyishly. "April didn't fly the plane – well, not all the time – or land it – Joe did."

"Joe?" Frank's voice rose into a squeak of disbelief. "Joe landed it?"

"And you, son, drank coffee that had been intended for Jack Wayne – and suffered the consequences. It was laced with GHB."

"GHB?" Frank inquired faintly. He was still trying to assimilate the information that his younger brother had flown and landed Jack's plane – apparently without mishap. "What's that?"

"Gamma-hydroxybutyrate," Fenton elaborated. "One of several tasteless, odorless substances that are occasionally dropped into drinks. They have a nickname—"

" 'Date-rape' drugs," Frank whispered, his cheeks flaming. "I was given one of those?"

His father nodded. "You were indeed. But the reason you're so sore is because of the jolting and jouncing you took during the flight. Joe tried to strap you in securely after you passed out, but he couldn't keep you from being thrown around some."

"Thrown around….?" Frank didn't complete his question, but Fenton seemed to understand.

"Bad weather – do you remember a storm was brewing?"

Frank managed a small nod, and his father continued. "Apparently, April was able to fly until they encountered the thunderstorm; then Joe had to take over, and had to get the plane down on the runway, under her instruction. Lots of turbulence, I understand. A rough flight and a bouncy landing." Mr. Hardy's lips were twitching with amusement. "You took the worst of it, since you were unable to brace yourself."

"Why was there GHB in Jack's coffee? Who put it there? What time is it? How long have I been out?" Frank tried again to push himself to a sitting position, and once more Fenton moved to hold him still.

"Whoa, son. If you want to sit up, do it the easy way. Don't struggle with it." Fenton indicated the control panel on the bed, and Frank sheepishly pressed the button to raise the head of the bed. When he was sitting nearly upright, he repeated his questions.

Fenton looked at his wristwatch, and also glanced at the windows, where sunshine streamed in. "It's just after eleven o'clock, Saturday morning. You've been unconscious for approximately ten hours."

"Why was Jack's coffee laced with – with a date-rape drug? Did Deke and Ernie do that? It doesn't make any sense; what if Jack had passed out when they were on the plane?"

"Deke and Ernie didn't have anything to do with the coffee. Brace yourself for a revelation, Frank – remember our "X" factor? Our Mr. "X" was none other than Roger Taylor, the DEA agent."

"What?" Frank's jaw dropped. "Roger Taylor? I don't believe…well, hang on a minute….Hmmm…Roger…maybe that's not so surprising. I always felt there was something odd about him, but….You're sure?"

"Oh, very sure," Mr. Hardy affirmed. "He's confessed to the police now, but he told Joe about it first."

"Joe?" Frank suppressed an irrational stab of jealousy. His brain felt foggy as he attempted to assimilate the news. _Joe landed the plane…Joe caught Roger Taylor…. I feel like excess baggage! Still…good for Joe!_ " How? Why?" He gently let his aching head back onto his pillow. "Tell me, Dad, please – but slowly, okay? I feel like my mind's been stuffed with foam packing peanuts coated in syrup."

His father smiled sympathetically. "You'll feel better in a little while; the doctor said you shouldn't have any aftereffects from what you ingested. But they gave you some pain medication for the whiplash, and that's probably affecting you. Let's see, to begin at the beginning:" He settled himself more comfortably in the chair. "Roger Taylor was indeed a DEA agent, but he had a hobby on the side of selling drugs – drugs that he picked up in line of duty and then made substitutions for." The detective looked disgusted. "He had switched the original packages of cocaine that were on Jack's plane – the one that went down with April aboard – for baby powder; you know about that already, of course."

Frank started to nod, then winced and desisted. "Yeah," he muttered.

"When the second sting operation was set up for last night, he supplied the bricks of cocaine as he was supposed to, but his intention all along was to (a) switch them after Deke and Ernie were busted; and somehow manage to implicate Jack; or (b) if Deke and Ernie used Jack and his plane to make their escape, Roger wanted to make Jack crash the plane, so that he, Roger, could retrieve the stash and make another switch. Or maybe he was going to simply cut his losses and disappear, this time. Roger made the call to Deke and Ernie, warning them that Jack was setting them up, and suggesting that they find quick transportation out of the country; and he hit me over the head when we were waiting for them to arrive. He doped the coffee in Jack's coffee maker, on the off chance that Jack would fill his thermos and drink some of it. Fortunately, Jack didn't. Unfortunately, you did."

Frank listened in stunned amazement. "How did Joe find out?" he queried.

"Roger met your plane when it landed, and asked Joe about the cocaine bricks. A little later, April mentioned to Joe that she'd seen Roger go into her plane right before she took off; she assumed it was something to do with the sting operation, since Joe told her Roger was an agent – but Joe remembered what you told him – that Roger wasn't there when April left. He started putting two and two together, chased after Roger, and confronted him, at the Wayne's World hangar. Roger pulled a gun on him—"

"A gun? – ouch!" Frank jerked upright again, then sank back. "But Joe's okay?"

"He's fine…well, bruised and pretty sore, actually, but he'll recover," Fenton assured him. "Joe managed to knock the gun away from Taylor; they fought, and Joe got the worst of it, I'm afraid. Thank the Lord, April was there." A grin crinkled Fenton's dark eyes making him look very much like his elder son. "She hit Roger on the head with a wrench and knocked him cold."

"April?" _Joe and April solved this whole case! One thing after another—Joe and April! Joe puts the clues together; April socks the bad guy over the head with a wrench…._ Frank sighed inwardly. "I guess I missed a lot, huh?" _Well, if I hadn't told Joe that Roger said he wasn't there when April left…._ He felt slightly better, considering this.

"Taylor's actually a patient in the hospital too," Mr. Hardy continued. "April gave him a severe concussion. He regained consciousness and confessed, but he's not in great shape at the moment. He's under guard, and as soon as he's somewhat recovered, he'll be taken to prison."

"When did you get here?" Frank inquired. "Did Jack fly you back?"

"About four hours ago. When Joe called to tell us what had happened, Jack wanted to fly back from Toronto immediately, but he was really in no condition to do anything like that, and I overruled him. He was still recovering from that knock on the head he took, and the pepper spray the Canadian police officer used on him. So I caught the first available commercial flight." Fenton smiled reassuringly at Frank. "Your mother was here, along with April and Joe, but when I arrived, I sent all three of them home. April talked to Jack, and assured him she was all right, when Joe first called." He began to laugh. "She informed him that she'd saved Joe's life and captured a criminal – and I thought Jack was going to burst an artery! He didn't know whether to be proud of her, or angry with her, or terrified for her! He finally settled for going back to sleep. He'll fly down here this afternoon, after he's given his statement to Chief Fantino."

"When can I get out of here?" Frank moved restlessly in the bed. He wanted to see Joe, and to hear first-hand all the details of the previous night…including the story of the airplane flight and landing!

Mr. Hardy rose to his feet. "I'll tell the nurses you're awake; perhaps they can locate your doctor. I expect you'll get an all-clear to leave very soon."

The prediction was correct: Frank was released within an hour. When he walked into the lobby, he was delighted to spot a small figure with coppery hair waiting there: Megan, who leaped from her chair and ran to hug him tightly.

"Hey, baby..." Frank held her close, reveling in the feeling of having her in his arms despite his aches and pains.

"Megan, I didn't realize you were here!" Fenton exclaimed. "You certainly could have come and seen Frank!"

"It's all right; I just got here a few minutes ago," she replied, "and the nurses told me he was checking out soon anyway. So I just waited."

Mr. Hardy gave the two a keen glance and smiled indulgently. "I think I just became a fifth wheel," he murmured. "I assume you'll bring Frank home soon, Megan?"

She blushed, but nodded. "Right away, Mr. Hardy. Come on, you—" she surveyed Frank critically, noting the foam cervical collar he was wearing. "you're going straight home where you can rest." She started for the exit, tugging on his hand.

"If there's one thing I don't like, it's tyrannical women," Frank declared, laughing, and pulled her back into his embrace. His father chuckled, shook his head, and headed for the door.

Upon reaching the Hardy home, Frank found himself cosseted and fussed over by both Laura and Megan; Fenton wisely absented himself from the room, and apparently Joe and April were still sound asleep. Frank settled himself on the family room sofa, feebly protesting that he needed no special attention, but appreciating the care lavished upon him, nevertheless.

"Do you think Joe will wake up soon?" he asked hopefully as Laura handed him a glass of juice.

"Probably not for several hours," was the disappointing reply. "Remember, he was up all night."

 _While I slept through all the excitement!_ Frank thought ruefully. He took Megan's hand for comfort, and she squeezed it, sensing his mood. She leaned close and kissed his cheek.

"You and Joe and April all need to rest, Frank," she said softly. "Your mom asked me to come for dinner, but I think I should go home for awhile first." Red-gold curls rested against his shoulder for a moment, then Megan got to her feet and gently freed her hand. "I'll be back at five or so…okay?"

Unable to come up with a convincing argument, Frank glumly let her depart.

##########

Made drowsy by the pain medication he had been given at the hospital, Frank dozed through much of the afternoon. He was awakened around four by the sound of a familiar voice.

"Frank. Hey, Frank!"

"Huh…?" Frank opened his eyes and gazed into his brother's face. "Joe!" Suddenly wide-awake, Frank pushed himself onto an elbow.

"Are you all right?" Both of them said the words together, then burst into laughter.

Frank's keen eyes noted Joe's involuntary wince, however; and he saw purplish bruise marks on his throat.

"What happened to you?" the elder boy demanded.

"Roger Taylor fights dirty," Joe said grimly. "He damn near choked me to death. He would have, too, if April hadn't been there." He grinned reminiscently. "April – she saved both our hides, big brother. I couldn't have brought that plane down without her, and Roger Taylor would have killed me. He was going to just shoot me, and then later on he almost strangled me – and both times I have April Wayne to thank for tipping the scales in my favor."

"Tell me about the plane!" Frank demanded.

Joe dropped to a seat on the floor, beside the couch, and began relating the story of the previous night's harrowing, hazardous flight. Frank listened, his mouth dropping open in amazement at some of the things Joe told him.

"I really thought we were goners when it was time to land that freaking plane!" the younger Hardy admitted. "But somehow I got it onto the ground, and stopped." He paused in his tale, and studied his brother's face. "I was really worried about you. I mean – I figured you'd be okay from the knockout stuff, but I was afraid the bouncing around would break something vital – like your neck!"

Frank gingerly rubbed the back of his neck. "I think you came closer than I'd like to admit! I'll never scoff at people who say they have whiplash, never again! Now I know what it feels like, and it's no fun at all."

"How long do you have to wear the cute collar?" Joe teased him, eyeing the plump foam device. Frank grimaced.

"For a couple of days, I guess. The doctor said 'until turning your head is no longer painful,' but that's not a lot to go on. I'm hoping maybe by Monday I won't have to keep it on."

Joe groaned theatrically. "Monday! School!"

"School sounds nice and restful, compared to this past week," his older brother observed, and they both laughed.

"It certainly does," a new voice said. The Hardys looked for the source, and beheld April, who stood smiling at them from the doorway. "I know I'm ready to go back, and I'll be happy to be bored to tears by Mr. Norwich's interpretations of U.S. history." She approached the couch. "How are you feeling, both of you?"

"We'll live," Frank replied. "What about you?"

"I'm fine. I'm the only one who didn't have anything traumatic happen to me last night, remember?"

"No, you did it last Monday," Joe retorted.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. April gestured for the boys to remain where they were, and went into the front hall to answer it. From the family room, Frank and Joe heard her shriek:

"Jack!"

"April, damn it all, you scared me outta my wits!" her brother bellowed. The Hardys hurriedly made their way to the hall, and beheld Jack Wayne hugging his sister tightly.

"Jack, not so hard!" she protested, and he immediately loosened his embrace. Catching sight of Frank and Joe, the pilot moved to wrap his arms about each of them in turn.

"Frank – Joe – you guys, what can I say….? You pulled it off, somehow – I have so much to thank you for….And you both could've died because of me….damn, I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, Jack," Frank attempted to reassure their friend. "We're just glad it all worked out. And we have April to thank for it," he added, smiling at the young girl, who blushed.

"April, do you want to come home now?" Jack asked hesitantly. "I know you're still sort of handicapped with your broken arm, but the danger's over – and I'd like you home."

"After dinner," Laura Hardy called from the kitchen, before April could reply. She came into the hall, continuing to speak. "Jack, you're invited too; we'll stretch what there is by tossing in another mouse or two. And then we'll let April leave – but we'll miss her!" She put an affectionate arm about April. "It's not often I get a girl to fuss over!"


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines! Videotapes were still in constant use! Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to those of you who have left reviews [Cherylann Rivers, Max2013, Sparkling Soul and a mysterious guest]; you're greatly appreciated! I know it's difficult trying to follow a story when the updates don't get announced consistently. And thank you to any and all who are reading and enjoying the story but not necessarily leaving comments.

Note #2: Thank you to the person known on the HDA board as Nancy Hardy for her invaluable assistance with information on Canadian names and places. Without her help, we would not have been nearly so accurate in our accounts. THANKS, NANCY!

Devon Marshand is an original character from the story _Ice Princess_ by SparksJSH, used with her permission.

APRILSHOWERS

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 21

Joe Hardy swung his motorcycle into the driveway of his home and brought it to a halt in front of the garage. He noted that Frank still wasn't home, despite the fact that it was nearly five o'clock in the evening. _But he loves flying for Jack_ , Joe thought to himself, pulling off his helmet. _Even sandwiching it into his class schedule isn't too much trouble for Frank, since he gets to fly! And Megan doesn't seem to mind…._ Joe felt just a bit sad; even though he himself had conceived the idea in the first place, he hadn't thought about Frank wanting to continue working at Wayne's World after their case was solved. Lately, he felt like he never saw his older brother any more; Frank was always at school, or at Jack's, or with Megan.

Just as he dismounted from the cycle, he heard the familiar sound of their van's engine, and Frank pulled the vehicle into its customary parking spot. Joe had insisted that Frank drive the van this week, rather than trading off as they usually did, using the persuasion that riding a motorcycle would be too hard on his bruises and whiplash injury. Frank hadn't argued much, even though Joe had significant bruising of his own.

"Hey, little bro!" Frank got out, slammed the door shut and draped an arm about Joe's shoulders as they walked toward the house. "You ready for tonight?"

A grin of anticipation curved Joe's mouth upwards and lighted his blue eyes. He had turned 18 the day before, but since his birthday fell on a Thursday, his party had been postponed a day. "Ready and waiting!" He elbowed Frank in the ribs. "What'd you get me?"

Frank emitted a snort of laughter. "Something entirely useful," he replied, and hurried through the back door before Joe could ask any more questions.

In the kitchen, their mother was just sliding a baking sheet of stuffed baked potatoes – Joe's favorites – into the oven. She smiled a welcome, and both boys kissed her.

"Dinner in about half an hour," she told them. "We're going to eat as early as possible tonight, since people will start arriving around seven."

Joe was hovering over a counter where a large cake reposed, its top nearly hidden in a forest of small candles. "Ummm, I can't wait!" he declared, sniffing the chocolate frosting ecstatically.

"Shoo!" Laura fluttered her hands in dismissal. "That's for the party!"

Joe shoved out his lower lip in a chagrined pout, but couldn't hold the expression, and began laughing instead. Surreptitiously, he scooped a fingerful of frosting from the edge of his cake, and stuck it in his mouth as he headed for the stairs. "I'm going up to take a shower," he announced.

"Please do," his mother commented wryly. "You bring half the baseball field home on your clothes every day from practice. Do you have to slide into all the bases?"

Frank snickered at his brother's discomfiture, and followed him. "I think I'll take one too."

##########

At seven o'clock, doorbell chimes began pealing, and for some time the Hardys were kept busy answering the door and greeting their guests. Friend after friend arrived: Phil Cohen, coming straight from his last class at NYU. Tony Prito, who brought with him two large boxes labeled "Mr. Pizza" which spread the aroma of tomatoes and pepperoni through the house. Biff Hooper and his girlfriend, Karen; Chet Morton and Devon Marshand, whose green eyes sparkled with mischief as she carried in a large, square box wrapped in birthday paper. Vanessa, who greeted Joe with a birthday kiss that left him gasping and caused the other boys to whistle appreciatively. Megan, who hugged the "birthday boy" so emphatically that his almost-healed bruises protested, before ensconcing herself beside Frank.

Arriving last were two people Joe might not have thought of inviting, two weeks previously – but now they seemed like part of the family. Jack and April Wayne both looked extremely happy, when Fenton escorted them into the family room, and Joe and Frank glanced at each other, marveling at the changes a mere week had made. Jack once again was the fun-loving young man they remembered; it was amazing what sufficient sleep and lack of nervous tension could do! Despite the fact that she was still recuperating, April was smiling with pleasure, although she gazed at all the older teens with a somewhat awestruck expression.

It wasn't the first time Joe had seen April since their eventful airplane flight, however. Back in school, he had made a point of looking for her in the halls, remembering her wistful words: "… _you're a senior, and one of the Big Wheels...just how likely are you to notice_ _me?_ " When he and Vanessa had spotted her, slipping unobtrusively along the edge of the corridor, shielding her arm from being bumped by passers-by, they had called her name, and stopped for conversation.

April had flushed with gratification – for receiving attention from seniors as well-known as Joe Hardy and Vanessa Bender was a feather in any sophomore's cap. When the three parted, Vanessa tugged at Joe's elbow.

"Joe, I'm set for a little matchmaking, here! April needs a guy…who can you introduce to her?"

"What?" Joe's involuntary yelp caused surrounding conversations to halt for a few seconds. "Are you kidding?" he demanded, lowering his voice.

"Not at all," his girlfriend informed him coolly. "She's pretty and smart and nice, and someone should benefit from all that. So who?" She stared at him, a determined expression in her gray-blue eyes.

Joe thought frantically, for when Vanessa had _that_ look on her face, he knew better than to argue. Faces flashed in his mind and he quickly assessed and discarded several before coming up with a possibility. "Todd Mitchell!" he said triumphantly. "He's a junior; plays third base on the varsity baseball team. He's a nice kid, but kind of shy, and I don't think he's dating anyone – not steadily, anyway."

Vanessa had nodded, considering the prospect. "He'd do," she said. "Talk to him at practice this afternoon, okay?"

Feeling like an idiot, Joe had done so, mentioning April as a girl he knew who was a licensed pilot and who had helped him and Frank solve a case recently. To his surprised gratification, Todd had evinced immediate interest, and the following day, Joe had introduced him to April, then hastily excused himself, pleading that he had to get to class. The next time he'd seen April, Todd was with her, carrying her books and walking protectively on her right side, to keep her arm from being jostled.

 _Vanessa was sure right about that,_ Joe thought now. _But I'll never understand what made her suddenly decide that April needed a boyfriend!_

Since all the guests had arrived, Laura produced the candle-festooned cake. A raucous chorus of "Happy Birthday" followed, then Joe valiantly attempted to blow out eighteen candles with a single breath, accompanied by yells of encouragement and teasing comments. Congratulations and applause broke out when he succeeded; flushed and temporarily breathless, Joe sat down, eyeing the stack of gifts and cards on the table.

"Go ahead, son," Fenton told him, smilingly. "You've had to wait an extra day for your presents; no reason to make you wait any longer."

Smiling in anticipation, Joe reached first for the large, square box Devon had carried in. It was lighter than he'd thought it would be, and he shook it a little, inquiringly. Something _thumped_ softly within. Joe glanced at the card – _To Joe, Happy Birthday from Chet and Devon_ , was all it said; no hints there! Quickly tearing off the ribbon and paper, Joe opened the box – and inside, found a beautiful, brown-suede Stetson. He whistled in awe, and carefully lifted it from its nest of tissue paper.

"Straight from Austin!" Devon informed him, tossing her long blonde hair back over her shoulder. "It was my grandfather's idea. He remembered how much you liked his, when they were here visiting me. And Chet picked the color."

"Try it on!" Chet encouraged him, and Joe complied, tilting it forward over his eyes. It fit as if it had been designed expressly for the younger Hardy.

"Wow – it's great! Thanks, I really like it!" Joe enthused.

"It looks great, Joe!" Vanessa surveyed him admiringly, and the others added similar comments.

Joe reached again, and picked up a small, square package that was almost certainly a CD. The card read: _With love from Megan_ , and he smiled warmly at the diminutive redhead before he opened it. When he _did_ open it, however, he received a surprise: it was an original – created via computer, and containing track after track of his favorite music by various artists. Megan flushed pink and dimpled at Joe's enthusiastic thanks.

"Frank helped me with the selections," she said. "I hope you enjoy it, Joe!"

A simple envelope addressed in a scrawling hand came next. Joe opened it, and found a card from someone he hadn't expected – Con Riley. Surprised and pleased, Joe picked up a tiny, tissue-wrapped rectangle from inside the card and unwrapped it…and then rolled his eyes and chuckled ruefully. _Oh man – very funny, Con – very funny!_

"What is it?" Frank leaned over, trying to see what it was that Joe held. His brother displayed a little orange piece of cardboard, and Frank erupted in shouts of laughter. It was a card from a Monopoly game set, which read **Get Out of Jail Free**. Everyone burst out laughing; Megan and April both giggled until tears filled their eyes.

"This is mine," Vanessa said, when the hilarity over Con's gift died away. She held out another smallish rectangular box, and Joe leaned to kiss her appreciatively before he removed the paper. The contents proved to be a video tape, and Joe raised a questioning eyebrow at his girlfriend.

"What's it of, Van?"

"It's – my mom helped me make it, and some other people, too—" Vanessa was uncharacteristically stumbling over her words, "it's highlights of your high school career and your life, Joe. All the important stuff in your life. It has footage from football and baseball games from the time you were a freshman, and clips about you and Frank and the cases you've solved, and there are pictures from dances, and—" She broke off. "There are some photos of you and Iola, too," she whispered.

Joe bit his lip. He knew what it must have cost Vanessa to include that. He reached for her hand. "Thanks babe," he said huskily. "We'll watch it a little later, okay?" When she nodded mistily, he kissed her again. _Iola was an important part of my life, Van,_ his thoughts ran. _…but_ _you're_ _here now!_ He whispered the words for Vanessa's hearing alone.

Across the room, Chet Morton was blinking hard, thinking of his sister. Devon hugged him comfortingly, and he managed a tentative smile.

"Here, Joe, this is a group gift!" Tony Prito pushed another envelope across the table's surface. The younger Hardy took it, appreciating Tony's tact and swiftness in changing the subject. When the card was opened, Joe saw it contained several signatures, and an impressive, computer-generated certificate which stated that the undersigned, Anthony Prito, Allen Hooper, Philip Cohen, Franklin Hardy, and Chester Morton did hereby gift Joseph Hardy with one (1) Camping Trip, date to be decided on, with _all_ of them in attendance.

Joe grinned at each of them, realizing what a large present he was actually receiving, in terms of time commitment. "Thanks, you guys! This is swell – something I really, really wanted!"

There was still a large, brightly-wrapped-and-beribboned box to be opened, and Joe now reached for it. The gift card read _With appreciation, thanks and love – from Jack and April._ Joe carefully removed the wrappings and lifted the lid – and his eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Oh, wow!" Nestled inside the box was a dark brown leather flight jacket. A pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses reposed on top of the coat. Joe hesitantly stroked the butter-soft leather. "Jack – April – I don't know what to say – they're great!"

"Look in the pocket, Joe," April said softly, and he obeyed. Inside one of the side pockets, there was a typewritten note, which read: _Joe – whenever you're ready to try again, this is good for as many flight lessons as it takes to get you your aviator's license. Thank you again for all that you did for me – April._ Joe looked over at April, appreciating the tedious time it had taken her just to type out that simple note on the computer using only her left hand; and also realizing what she was offering in terms of time and effort.

"April – thanks! I – I'm not sure about that yet, but – thanks!" Joe smiled. He explained the contents of the note to the others, and April was immediately inundated with comments and advice on the advisability or futility of trying to teach Joe to fly.

Frank spoke through the hubbub. "Joe, can I see your keys for a minute?" he asked. Joe frowned slightly; it seemed like an odd request, especially for the time and place, but he leaned backwards and fished in his pocket for his keys, then tossed them toward his brother. Frank caught them, gave them a cursory glance, and calmly pocketed them.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" Joe scowled at his sibling. Frank just smiled.

Fenton cleared his throat, and held out a small box to his younger son. "Joe, you haven't opened our gift yet."

Joe took the box and looked at it with a sinking feeling. _It's a wallet box…Frank got a whole new computer setup for his birthday – and I get a_ _wallet_ _? Well – I know I need a new one, but still…._

Joe quickly put on a good face, so as not to upset his parents, and carefully unwrapped the bright blue paper. Sure enough, there was a plain, brown wallet. Joe forced a smile. "Thanks Mom, Dad, it's just what I needed."

Laura laughed softly, understanding his consternation. "Look inside, honey. You know it's rude to give someone a wallet without putting something inside."

Joe took the wallet from its box and slowly opened it. _A couple of Ben Franklins could rescue this present yet!_ he thought hopefully. But no money appeared. Instead, nestled in the folds of the billfold, was a key. Not just any key, but a key that obviously fit the ignition of a vehicle.

A slow grin spread across Joe's face, getting wider and wider as he realized what this key meant. He leaped to his feet and rushed for the front door, throwing it open to view the driveway, where he expected to see a new, custom-built van parked. His jaw dropped open in shock – had there been some sort of mistake?

"Wha—what is it?" he stammered. "Is THAT for me?"

Frank had followed him into the hall, and now slapped his brother on the back. "What did you expect? For us to keep sharing that van forever?"

Joe stared at the strange little vehicle parked in the drive. He slowly walked out the door, down the steps and onto the driveway, followed _en masse_ by his family and friends. He reached a hand to touch the gleaming steel-blue metallic surface. "Wow…."

"It's an Aztek," Frank told him. "It's all-wheel drive, and they call it an SRV – a Sport Recreational Vehicle." He chuckled. "It comes with a camping package, little brother – you can attach the tent to it, and there's an air mattress…."

"It's really different!" Megan bubbled. "It's so little…."

It was. Tidy and compact, shining like a jewel in the glow of the spring sunset. The top portion of the vehicle was the smart steel blue metallic cover and the lower half was a deep rugged black. It looked tough and reliable. The whole vehicle was impressive, unlike anything Joe had ever seen before.

"Wh—where did it come from?" Joe stammered.

"A car dealership!" Biff joked. "Although actually, I saw someone dropping it off when we drove up."

Joe turned to look at his parents. "It's wonderful! But – but – it's too much," he choked out. "Something like this—"

"Don't be too overwhelmed," his father responded. "It's not completely paid for. And understand, Joe, that this is also your graduation gift; all you'll get from your mother and me in June is a Hallmark card! Also, there were several sources that helped with it – your Aunt Gertrude in Florida, for instance. And there were sizable rewards put up by the DEA and the Special Investigation Services of Canada, for the capture of Roger Taylor. And," Fenton continued, smiling at Jack and April, "every cargo company operating out of the vicinity of Bayport contributed to a reward, as well."

"We'll have to pitch in the money in our account," Frank interposed, meaning the joint bank account he and Joe had started with an eye to an additional vehicle, "and you've got all those savings bonds Aunt Gertrude's given you every year – they mature when you hit 18."

"But you'll be responsible for making payments on the balance, Joe," his father concluded. "So I hope you'll start looking for a summer job soon!"

Jack Wayne stepped forward. "Joe, we could probably use an extra hand at Wayne's World this summer," he said quietly. Behind him, April was nodding enthusiastically, her hazel eyes bright. "And I promise I'd be a very understanding boss, if you and Frank had to suddenly leave to work on a case somewhere!" he added, grinning.

"Flying?" Joe asked with some trepidation. He saw April's face crinkle with suppressed laughter, and he remembered all too well how his topsy-turvy stomach had felt after his last airplane ride. _But it might be fun – if there weren't any storms!_

Jack grimaced and laughed. "Not hardly, kid – I was thinking that with Roger gone, Jason might need help loading cargo."

"That's okay…." Joe replied dazedly, again running a gentle hand along the hood of his new car. Suddenly, he turned to look at Frank. "You're going to have the van, then?"

"Yes and no," his brother answered. "I'll drive it for a little while, yeah. But I'm thinking of trading it in on something a little smaller and newer – that van's been repaired so often, there's not much of the original vehicle left…and it gets terrible gas mileage."

"You two aren't the only ones getting new cars," April remarked. "The insurance company has given Jack and me the go-ahead to replace the Neon. Hmmm, Jack, can I have an Aztek too?" Her brother rolled his eyes in despair, and laughed.

"I don't think the insurance will stretch that far – but we can check and see."

"Open it up, Joe!" Biff prodded. "Let's see what it looks like inside!"

As Joe unlocked the doors and then popped the hood, the masculine portion of the party crowded around for a closer look. Chet, Biff and Joe whistled in appreciation at the shiny new 3.4 liter V-6 engine, while Phil and Frank checked out the computerized Driver Information center and the graphic equalizer on the compact disk system. Phil was impressed with the Theftlock system and the 6 speakers, commenting that Joe could rock all over town with that baby. Tony ran his hand over the brand new dark gray leather seats and grinned in envious glee for Joe's new vehicle. "Hey, is this the one that has the cooler in the center console? That will come in handy when we go on our camping trip." Jack and Fenton stood in back, discussing the camping package in detail.

Laughing at the boyish enthusiasm the guys were showing, Devon, Karen and Laura went inside the house; Vanessa, Megan and April found themselves temporarily alone on the front porch.

"Vanessa," April said hesitantly, "Did you have anything to do with Joe suddenly introducing me to Todd Mitchell, by any chance?"

Vanessa chuckled. "What makes you think that?"

April smiled. "Just a hunch. It's good – I like Todd a lot. Listen, I wanted to tell you something."

She took a deep breath. "I'll always like and admire Joe. He's an absolutely wonderful person, and he'll always be a hero, in my eyes – not only a hero, my guardian angel!….But he's not the right one for me, and I know that now. The things he does; the situations they get into….I don't envy you…or you, Megan," she added to the little redhead. "I don't want to spend my life wondering if my husband will come home at night, or whether he's been kidnapped or is lying in an alley somewhere. There's no way I could live with all the violence these guys put up with all the time." She looked up into Vanessa's understanding eyes. "I just wanted you to know…."

Vanessa smiled down at the younger girl. "You know, when you put it like that…" she said thoughtfully, "maybe he's not such a good catch after all! New car or no new car…."

Joe, approaching them at that moment, caught her words. "HEY! What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind, Joe; never mind." She smiled sweetly at her boyfriend, and hugged him, but over his shoulder, she exchanged glances with Megan and April, who dissolved into fits of giggles.

After a time, since it was getting dark, Laura managed to tempt people back inside to have birthday cake. Jack and April ate hurriedly, however, and soon rose to their feet.

"This was wonderful, and we're sorry to take off so early, but we're leaving town tonight," Jack made excuse. "We're going to our family cabin; we want to take a couple of days away from the air cargo business." He gave his sister a rueful look. "April and I have some things to talk over and patch up…from the last few months."

"We used to go there all the time," April added. "But we haven't been there since Dad died. It's time to go again. Happy birthday, Joe!" she called across the room, and waved as she left. Joe, wearing his new leather flight jacket and Stetson, waved back vigorously, but couldn't answer, having just popped a large bite of cake into his mouth. Jack threw him a salute as he departed.

A little later, leaving his guests happily talking and eating, Joe walked to the front windows and gazed again at his new "baby." Vanessa quietly joined him, and he put an affectionate arm about her, still staring out the window.

 _Man, if I'd known it was so great turning 18, I'd have done it before now!_

The End


End file.
